


A Bruising Kind of Kiss

by pulpobsessed



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Dungeons & Dragons References, Episode: s02e06 Never Been Kissed, Gay, Gay Bashing, Healing, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Kurtofsky TenYears, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pulpobsessed/pseuds/pulpobsessed
Summary: Written for Day 1 of the Kurtofsky Tenth Anniversary week.What if... When someone overhears the stairway confrontation, Dave Karofsky finds himself running for his life.
Relationships: Kurt Hummel/David Karofsky
Comments: 16
Kudos: 22
Collections: Kurtofsky Week - Ten Year Anniversary





	1. Attack

Dave ran. 

He always ran - these days it was a way of life for him. He ran and he hid. And when he couldn’t do either of those things, he struck out - violently - and hurt those people who could maybe offer him so much more. Those who could give him the help he so desperately needed. But fear had a way of making him go a little crazy. Fear was always the reason Dave ran. Fear just had a way of making him do things that he knew he shouldn’t. 

Except in this case. This time he was doing exactly what he should be doing - he was running. 

He had spent so much time today running. First, it had been to escape exposure. He had run to escape two boys in a stairway - two boys with their words that had laid him bare. He had run to avoid the knowing stares of everyone around him. He had run to escape those horrible words - words that had condemned him. Words that had cast him down one long journey into hell. Words that had marked him. Words that had sent him hurtling headfirst into his execution. 

**_“Kurt told me what you did.”_ **

The sound of that preppy kid’s voice would not stop repeating in his head - over and over and over again! He couldn’t stop hearing them. 

Can't stop. Can't stop. Can't stop. 

He’d felt prep boy’s words as if they were actual physical blows and he was running away being a killer’s knife. But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t escape them! Those words were all around him. They were IT. And IT was bigger than the world! His greatest shame. His greatest weakness! 

A weakness that had burst out of him in a moment of such absolute frustration and terror that his entire body had just given in! Why? Why? Why hadn’t he just screamed and punched that little...faggot! 

Even with his lungs burning from exertion and the churning pit of fear in his stomach, he groaned at that thought. At that word. 

God! How he hated that word. How he abhorred that word! But it was a word that came so easy to him - so easily to the bullies of the world. It was a word that could cause harm and hurt and it was a word he could hide behind! So, he used it! He used it to hide so effectively. He used his self-loathing to wrap himself in the bigotry that fit his persona to hide. And all he wanted was to hide. He wanted to disappear. And he’d done it - he’d accomplished it! Until he’d been faced with his greatest temptation - and all his walls had buckled and crumbled around him. 

The moment Kurt had faced him - stood up to him - he’d known that whatever was about to happen would change his life. It had felt like all this pressure was building inside of him and he’d exploded - which he’d expected because he always exploded. But, honestly, he just hadn’t expected the explosion to be  _ that _ . 

He’d kissed him. Oh god. He’d kissed him. And it had been glorious! But the look on Kurt’s face had ruined him. In that instant, he knew he’d made the wrong move. He’d fucked up entirely. 

And so he had run. He'd fled back into hiding - retreating home and hiding in his room. Hiding from his dad - who knew something was wrong, very wrong, and had gently tried to talk to him. He hid from his friends - Az had called wanting to know where he’d disappeared to and if he was okay. And he hid from himself - too scared to even look in the mirror for fear of what he would see. 

**_Kurt told me what you did._ **

**_You kissed me._ **

He hadn’t meant to! Honestly, he hadn’t. Why had he targeted Kurt yesterday? Why had he decided that yesterday was a good day to do that! And why had Kurt followed him? Even an idiot would know better! 

He - Karofsky - was dangerous! What did Kurt think would happen? He’d probably hoped for a punch, or a few broken bones - something to finally make the bully disappear. 

But the moment he’d kissed Kurt, he knew he’d crossed a line - he’d crossed the worst line. He’d assaulted the guy! He’d become a monster. And Kurt would never want to talk to him now. Kurt would never offer him support and friendship now - he’d done the worst act. So, he had made a decision. 

Late last night - in the dark - he’d decided to take his fate into his own hands. 

He would leave Kurt alone. He would leave all of them alone. He would take that horrible shameful act - that horrible and shameful person - and hide it all away. 

Yes, that’s what he would’ve done. He would stop - he’d decided while lying on his bed, staring at his model airplanes. This thing - this confusing and scary thing - he would just set it aside and let it grow in its own way. He was going to push it down - deep deep down - and just go back to being an asshole on like a low key level. 

He was going to lay off Kurt. Stop entirely! Kurt wouldn’t even know he was fucking alive! He’d just be Karofsky - cocky jock with a bad disposition. He’d go back to working hard and bring his grades back up. He’d keep on living his life - get to graduation and then figure this shit out. Because in college, life would get better. He’d wait till the summer before college, then he’d tell his dad and Az. And then he’d head to college and figure this shit out. 

And it had seemed like a great plan last night - it was a workable plan. Just sail by under the radar - do his work, get a scholarship, get to college and figure shit out! 

And then today happened. And his little plan all went to shit. 

They’d shown up on that fucking staircase! Cornering him - putting him right in the spotlight. In front of like every fucking student at McKinley! And saying it outloud! Saying  _ it _ in front of everyone… 

**_You kissed me._ **

Why did they have to do that!? Why did they have to do this to him!? He was sorry - he was so sorry! He just wanted to disappear! Why couldn’t they have just let him disappear. Why did they have to expose him like that? 

And like a wounded animal - he’d reacted. He’d run. Fuck - the moment they’d appeared on those stairs, he’d wanted to vomit out of fear. Fear had spread through him like a strong shot of whiskey. Fear had spread through him, just like those words had spread through the halls of McKinley! And they had done so almost instantaneously. The moment the whisperings began, he’d felt his fear chilling his veins and opening the floodgates of his tears. 

**_Kurt told me what you did._ **

**_You kissed me._ **

He thought Kurt would’ve known better! He believed Kurt knew better! To publicly out someone like that - to say it in public! How could he!? He’d taken Dave’s right to come out on his own away from him. 

He had read about it online - in one of his three a.m. internet searches when he couldn’t sleep and he just felt brave enough to whisper the truth to himself. When he felt brave enough to type the words -  _ ‘what if I’m gay?’ _ or  _ ‘how do I come out?’ _ And right there in black and white - big and bold and so affirming -  _ Each of us has the right to share or not share different aspects of ourselves with others. _

So why wasn’t he allowed that same right? Why wasn’t he allowed to share who he was when he was ready? Was it because he was a bully - a repressed and self hating bully? Was that why? Was this punishment for what he’d done?! 

He’d scream his apologies to the world if only to make this end! 

_ I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry -  _ the refrain of his sorrow echoed his panicked footfalls. __

Kurt could have done it a million other ways! He could have asked Hudson for Dave’s phone number and they could have talked? He could have slipped a note into Dave’s locker? He could have gotten one of his girlfriends to come to ask Dave to meet him! Fuck, he would’ve even listened to that Berry chick! He would have! Anything but this! Anything but public exposure! And blood!

Was that what their relationship was - Dave hurts and wounds Kurt, so Kurt exposes him to everyone! Why? Why would Kurt do this? 

Because now, Dave was facing the consequences of that exposure. 

_ Can’t stop Can’t stop Can’t stop  _

_ Can’t stop Can’t stop Can’t stop  _

He was running for his life. He was running to escape. He was running to escape hurt and pain and possibly death. Dave was running - running so hard he felt like his lungs were about to burst. 

It just wasn’t fair. Kurt and his boyfriend had sent Dave hurtling towards something he might never come back from. 

Oh god! He could hear them behind him - he could hear them! - and they were getting closer. Why? Why was this happening? He tried to push himself a little harder and a little faster! 

_ Push yourself, Dave! Push yourself! Come on fuckface! Run faster! _

It had happened like a bad scene from a shitty teenage drama - recently outed gay boy, leaves school, only to find himself confronted by bigotry and hate. 

As he’d left school - after hiding, rather effectively, in the athletics area all day - he’d found himself confronted for the second time. He’d found himself facing another boy - a much angier and much more dangerous boy than Kurt could never be. And this one hadn’t come alone either. 

When these ill-bred fucks had cornered him - boys, so much bigger than he was - he’d wanted to fight. He wanted to serve them up a slice of The Fury! Show them that you don’t fuck with Dave Karofsky. He’d wanted to throw all that frustration, fear, anger, and hurt that he’d felt all day and throw it at these assholes. He wanted to tear them apart for even daring to add to his turmoil. And that was exactly what he’d been about to do - until he saw … it. That gleaming glint of metal in that boy’s hand - a boy who radiated hate on a level Dave didn’t even recognize. 

The moment he saw that metal - he’d pissed himself in fear, and then he started to run. 

Oh god...he could hear them. They’re getting closer. He just has to keep running! The McD’s is like a few blocks away! He was so close. 

If Kurt and prep boy hadn’t shown up on the damn staircase, none of this would be happening right now. None of it! He wouldn’t be running… he would be at home! He’d be at home, watching tv with his cat or playing Call of Duty. But if wishes were kisses, right? And so, naturally, Kurt and prep boy had shown up, sending Dave on the run of his life. Running in pants he’d pissed himself in. Terrified. 

His terror had been born right there - on those steps. His reckoning had been written in the fabric of the universe when those words had been spoken. And he’d run - terror nipping at his heels - headfirst into his destruction. 

He’d slammed prep boy against the wall of the staircase and then he ran - no one giving him a second look. For a second, he thought he was home free. For a second he thought everyone would just assume that he was putting The Fury to a couple of the losers again. For a second, he thought no one had overheard. 

But someone had. Someone had heard every word. 

And that someone had whispered it to another person...who whispered it to another… and so on until someone had whispered it to Rick "The Stick" Nelson. And that mean little fuck, Rick, had whispered it to his brother - a known homophobe. A boy who hated difference more than anything else in the world. 

A hateful boy who had been waiting at Dave’s truck after school. 

“Hey, Karofsky - heard you like dick.” 

Dave had paused - halfway to his truck. Stopped mid-step, calmly regarding the four boys standing by his old Chevy. He only knew one - Bobby Nelson, Rick’s brother, who was standing defiantly in front of the others. Glowering at Dave with absolute hate in his eyes. 

But Dave was Dave - he was The Fury. He was no one you fucked with! No one! Really, for someone so afraid all the time, he could be stupidly brave.

As all four boys moved towards him, he briefly thought about running back into the school - finding Coach Beiste or Az or even Kurt and telling them he might be in danger. But his idiotic brain - with the bully persona firmly in place - asserted itself. No, The Fury didn’t do that - he fought his own battles. 

“The fuck you talking about! I don’t like dick, fuckwads. Get away from my truck, you assholes.” 

“That’s not what I hear - I hear you’re taking it up the ass from that resident fag, Hummel.” 

A burn of anger at hearing someone talk about Kurt like that surged through him.“Fuck off, Nelson.” Dave tried to move past them to get to his truck. His anger was starting to boil over, but there was a deep trickle of fear underneath - as if he knew this was going to be much more insidious than just a few bullies confronting another gay kid. 

That was when the first push came, causing him to stumble back. But he recovered quickly and spun fast - his fist flying out ahead of him, but Nelson stepped out of his range. Laughing. 

“Aw look, boys, the little fag is gonna try to fight back.” 

Dave glowered - his face dark with anger. “I’ll do more than fight back, asshole. I’ll put your fucking ass six feet under.” 

Nelson had laughed at him. “Nah, you fag, that’s our job.” And that was when Dave saw it - hanging loosely in Nelson’s hand. A tire iron - gleaming in the late afternoon sun. 

**_Kurt told me what you did._ **

And just like that, Dave understood. He understood what prep boy’s words had done - Dave wasn’t getting away from this unscathed. He was about to face his reckoning. He was about to… he was about to die. 

A million thoughts went through his mind in the millisecond it took him to understand what was happening. He thought about his mom - religious to a fault, but loving in her own absent way. He thought about his dad - so devoted to his son while struggling to survive as a single parent. His best friend, Az, a guy who’d always had his back. His cat, Molly, who would miss his warm body at night. And he thought about Kurt - a boy Dave found confusing, scary, and alluring. 

He dropped his bag - it clattered against the pavement - idly he remembered that his phone was in there. But his eyes were locked on that gleaming metal, fear coloring his world. And as he felt the warm spread of urine across his groin, he had a final thought - I don’t want to die. 

“No.” He breathed. 

“Yes, faggot. A girl like Hummel - that’s whatever, life’ll get her in the end. But you - you’re supposed to be a man. Instead, you’re a disgusting freak of nature. So, you pay.” And Nelson jumped forward. 

Acting on instinct, Dave punched, catching Nelson right in the solar plexus. The older boy gave a loud hard wheeze as he stumbled back, surprise and anger flashing in his eyes. Dave took the opportunity to turn and run.

He ran like his life depended on it - because it did. Right here and right now - he needed to run to stay alive. 

And he had to keep running - this time he had no other choice.

He’d been running for fifteen minutes now. Legs pumping harder than they’d ever pumped - lungs bursting - but he wasn’t stopping for anything. He could beat them - he knew he could beat them. He just had to push himself.

_ Get to safety. Get to safety. Get to safety!  _

He had to be getting close to the McD’s now - he and Az had done this trip at lunch like a million times. And ... oh! He could see it! It was just ahead! He could get there - get inside! Scream for help! They would call the cops and his dad, and he’d be safe! He just needed to push it a little harder and a little faster. It was like football - if he wanted to get across the line! If he wanted to bring home the damn bacon, he just needed to give it everything he had!

Fuck, he hated that he was trapped in a real-life nightmare out of some fucking Stephen King novel. This wasn’t right! This wasn’t fair. But… he was going to make it! 

He would make it. He could make it! 

He didn’t.

He felt the push coming before it even hit him. He flew forward - his body momentarily suspended in space - and then he was colliding with the pavement. He felt his face scrape across the sidewalk - tearing and ripping deeply at his skin, leaving long large gashes on his forehead, chin, and cheeks. He screamed. 

Hands fell on him, hauling him up and throwing him against a wall - he was too winded from the run to do more than flail his fists helplessly, hoping to hit something. He felt his knuckles connect against someone’s face - there was a loud grunt - but he wasn’t sure which one he managed to hit. 

The first punch didn’t actually shock him as much as he thought it would - he had been expecting it. And his face was already awash from the pain of being scraped against the pavement. But it was the second punch that hurt - a lot. A fist slammed into his nose and there was a hard and painful explosion of pain across his face, he heard the crunching of bone. Oh, he thought, that must be my nose. 

As he screamed and tried to push them away, someone just hit him in the face again, another bone crunched loudly.

He sagged against the wall - there was so much blood running into his eyes, he couldn’t quite see properly. He tried shaking his head, a babble of pleas flooding out of him - begging. “Please! Don’t do this! Please don’t! Whatever you want! I’ll give it to you! Please Please!” 

A fist connected with his stomach and he doubled over, gasping as the breath was knocked out of him. Then someone kicked his knee - he heard a pop. He fell forward just as another punch landed on his face. Then another and then another. The warm wetness of blood was all over his face now - in his mouth, his nose...hell he could almost feel it dripping onto the pavement. 

“Fucking faggot! Hold him!” 

He felt his arms being wrenched behind him as he was hauled back up to his feet - his knee screamed in agony. He was crying - tears mixing with the blood. He shook his head. “PLEASE!” 

“Fuck you, fag!” 

Then his leg exploded with a white-hot pain that was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. It wasn’t at all like when he’d been thrown into the boards during a hockey game, or when he was tackled on the football field, or when he and Az got too intense with their play-fighting. It wasn’t anything like that. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever known before. 

He screamed as his leg buckled and he started to fall to the ground, only to get hauled back up and slammed against the wall again. 

“HELP PLEASE!” 

And then the pain came roaring back. 

This time it was like an explosion in his side. Like a giant set of claws sinking deeply into his flesh. His entire side burst into flame. He knew a rib had been broken - he didn’t know how, but he knew. He screamed! He screamed so loudly that he surprised himself at just how much voice he had in him. 

Again and again, that pain ripped through his body. His arm, which felt like it was being torn off. It felt as though there would be nothing left but a bloody gaping hole - bits of muscle and bone and flesh hanging loosely where his right arm used to be. Then in his other leg - another screaming angry roaring wall of flame. His side again. His leg. His face - where the world went grey and unfocused. 

And when that pain exploded on his face - his head - he knew it would be over soon. The pain would end soon - it had to. He couldn’t take much more. 

Dave screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed. 

He screamed for his daddy. He screamed for his mommy. He screamed for Molly. He screamed for Az and for Kurt and for Hudson and for Berry and for anyone who maybe maybe maybe could hear him and would maybe maybe maybe come save him. 

He knew he was about to die. He didn’t want to die - not like this! Not at the hands of bullies who were so much worse than anything he could ever have been. 

The pain exploded and exploded and exploded.

He was so so sorry so sorry so sorry 

“Help!” He tried to scream - his voice sounded so weak and feeble in the face of all this pain - all this unimaginable pain and torment. He cried and cried and screamed and cried out. He thought hell had been the pit of self-loathing and fear he’d been trapped inside for so long - but he’d been wrong. This was hell. 

And never in a million years would he have thought that he would visit this hell. 

Dave Karofksy was a gentle boy who had gotten lost in his own anger and self-hate. He was a child, one who had turned to violence and bullying in an effort to disguise himself. But, really, he was so much more than that. He’d just started discovering himself. He knew he liked spending long lazy afternoons on the couch with his cat, petting her soft grey fur. He knew he liked hugs and curling up in his comfy bed. He liked football, hockey and science fiction. He’d always wanted to try playing Dungeon and Dragons. He liked listening to music - even if he had terrible taste. He knew he liked going with his dad on camping trips. Or going for drives or spending a day playing video games with his best friend. 

But none of those things had condemned him. 

No, what had condemned him was that he liked boys. 

And he was going to die because of that one fucking fact! A fact he had barely even started accepting yet! A fact that was still a tiny little germ of an idea. A fact that was still evolving and growing. A fact that he’d just managed to whisper to himself for the first time last month. 

And he was going to die because of it. 

The pain exploded against his stomach - burning, searing, ripping and tearing at him. It was another fresh hot flash against his already battered and bruised body. But it awoke in him a new fury. His eyes snapped open and he pushed back, shaking off one of the assholes holding him. 

Through the red curtain of blood that was flooding his face, he could see the hateful face of Bobby Nelson. Nelson had this gleeful sneer cutting across his ignorant imbecile face. Dave wanted to tear that face apart. 

Dave screamed. “FUCK YOU ASSHOLE!”

Bobby Nelson just laughed at him and lifted the tire iron again, this time clearly ready to land a killing blow against Dave’s skull. So, once again - perhaps for the last time - Dave screamed, “SOMEONE HELP ME!!”

And this time - someone screamed back!

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” 

Suddenly the hands holding him were gone and he was falling falling falling back onto the pavement. He slammed against it, and rolled away, curling into a fetal position. The rush of blood was deafening in his head, but he could still hear them. 

“Fuck off asshole - this doesn’t concern you!” 

“Get away from him! What are you doing! OH MY GOD! Is that a tire iron!”

“I said fuc…” There was the sound of a fist slamming against flesh.

“HELP! Someone call the POLICE! I NEED HELP!! HELP!! They’re killing him!’

“Fuck YOU!” Nelson screamed. A scream that was immediately followed by a loud yell of pain, and then the sound of a body hitting a brick wall. 

Oh god oh god oh god - they’re going to kill the guy who was helping him and then they’d finish the job with him.

Then he could hear more noises - the sound of more footsteps...more people running toward him. More people screaming and what sounded like a scuffle. A scream of pain and another loud curse from Nelson. 

He stayed curled into himself - if they came at him again, he could protect himself this way - he was pretty sure that’s what people said about self-defense. And this way, he could pretend he was snuggling Molly when he died. 

He could hear Nelson’s goonies talking fast - “Let’s get out of here!” “Fuck I knew this was a bad idea” “Bobby come on!” 

Then louder voices - older voices - “You fuckers are going nowhere!” 

“Hey! Let us go!” 

Then, the sound of those other men - louder men - angrier men, got louder. They were screaming at Dave’s attackers. Screaming at them. He heard bodies slamming into the wall, or being tackled to the ground. 

And he heard that first voice - the man who’d saved him - screaming at someone. “You fucking homophobe! I’m gonna fucking kill you!” 

Dave took a chance and opened one eye - he could see Bobby Nelson struggling with an older guy - the guy looked like he’s trying to restrain Bobby - fist raised to pummel Bobby’s face. There are other men - all of them are holding onto one of the guys that had attacked him. One of whom was on the ground - with some guy’s boot pressing hard into his face.

Bobby, though, was the one giving the biggest fight - yelling about queers and faggots and how it was his god-given right. 

But no one was paying attention to Dave. Which meant he could get away - he could find safety! Somewhere that tire iron  _ wasn’t _ .

Slowly, Dave sat up. His bruised and battered body moved tenderly and carefully. As he pressed his left arm against the pavement, a fresh explosion of pain flooded him - he almost cried out but managed to stifle it. He didn’t want anyone to notice him. But at least he still had an arm - it hadn’t been torn away. 

He switched arms - the right arm was not quite as bad. So, using that arm, he started to push himself up - bracing himself against a wall. No one was looking at him - they were all fighting with Nelson and the other homophobes. He stood up, his legs were angry with pain - he knew they had hit him there with the tire iron, so they definitely didn’t feel that great. He waited for a moment - testing whether his legs would support his weight. They did - barely. 

He could move. He could run - he needed to run! Glancing behind him, he saw that the street was empty. He could hear approaching sirens. 

He looked back at the men fighting with Nelson. Those boys had almost killed him. Those boys had almost...they’d attacked him with a fucking tire iron! An implement of death and pain that Nelson was still waving around - he could see smears of blood on it. His blood. The sight of it sent a bolt of ice cold terror through him. He whimpered. And as always, fear had a way of making him go a little crazy. Fear had a way of making him do things that he shouldn’t. 

Dave turned and ran. 

“Hey! Kid! Stop! You’re safe!” A voice called out - it was the guy who had stopped his attackers. He paused and looked back. The guy was older - maybe fifty, and he was huge, with salt and pepper hair. He had Nelson pinned to the wall, arm pressed into Nelson’s neck. But the guy only had eyes for Dave - he looked so scared and worried. “Kid! I promise! Just stay right there, okay? I promise no one is going to hurt you anymore!” 

No. No - he wasn’t safe! Didn’t this guy understand that!? 

He couldn’t stop! He wasn’t safe! They were still there! They were there with that tire iron, which was coated in his blood. No. He had to get away. He had to hide - if he’d stayed, they would break free and kill this man, and all the other men who had saved Dave. Then they would finish the job they’d started. No fact was more indisputable than that one. 

He had to run. He had to run. He had to run! 

“KID STOP! The police are coming!”

Didn’t matter didn’t matter didn’t matter - he needed to get away. They could attack the police and then hurt him again. They could make him pay for all of this! He couldn’t face that. He needed to run. It was safer to run! It was always safer to run. 

He limped as fast as he could. The more distance he could put between himself and that tire iron the better! He would find a place to hole up and stay safe. Then he’d go find dad. But not while they were...not while that tire iron was still there. 

Not while that tire iron, dripping with his blood, could still hurt him! 

“Kid! Wait! Fuck! Hold him! I gotta go get that kid!”

“I can’t! Where are the fucking cops?! KID PLEASE COME BACK! YOU’RE HURT!” 

No. Hurt was one thing. He’d be dead if he went back. Dave slipped around the corner of a building and hurried down an alleyway - it was safer this way. He’d get away...he’d survive. He’d hide and he’d survive. Because that’s what Dave Karofksy did.

As he slipped away, he heard Nelson screaming and the sound of a punch landing hard against someone’s face. He had no intention of finding out who got punched, and he had no intention of waiting for Nelson to find him. No, he’d do exactly what he was good at - he’d run and hide. It had worked for him so far - until today - so he would just make it work for him again. 

Dave stumbled and braced himself against a wall - accidentally using his left arm to stop himself from falling - he screamed in pain. Then he dug - he dug deep until he found some pit of adrenaline that he’d never tapped into before - and he used it. 

He used it to slowly move away - to get away. To escape. 

And, so, with the wail of sirens and the calls of a man with salt-and-pepper hair following him, Dave slipped away and disappeared. 

* * *

“Oh fuck!” He moaned, awakening in the dark, curled up in the mud and dirt with the rough scratch of branches scraping against his battered and torn face. 

His entire body was awash with pain. A fact he slowly grew more and more aware of as he took stock of exactly what hurt and where. 

His side burned - he could feel a broken rib shifting and move. His left arm, which he was pretty sure was also broken, had grown hot and numb. His right arm, worriedly, would every once in a while, send fiery fingers of pain up and across his shoulders and down his back. And although both legs throbbed, the right one, was far worse. He wondered if something was broken or dislocated. And, when he walked, he limped badly. 

His face felt like every bone in it had been smashed apart. He’d tried touching his nose at one point and had nearly passed out from the pain. He was sure that he might be bleeding internally and there was still fresh wet blood running out of his nose and from his many facial and head wounds - he could taste copper. 

His face felt huge - swollen and thick. As he slowly sat up, he realized it was starting to get harder and harder to breathe - his breaths were coming in these little tiny whistling wheezes that just sounded wrong. Utterly wrong. He was having trouble thinking - there might not be enough oxygen getting to his brain. Or he had a concussion. Fuck. He needed help.

There was no part of him that was not in pain. And he didn’t know what to do. 

Oh, fuck - why had he run? Why hadn’t he stayed? Even with Bobby and those other assholes there - he should have stayed with those guys who were trying to help him. He should have stayed with the salt-and-pepper hair guy! He’d be in a hospital by now - and his dad would be there. Why hadn’t he done that!? Why!? 

After practically crawling away from the scene of his attack - he’d hurried away, ending up in one of the subdivisions not far from McKinley - there had been a bush with a large hollow in it that effectively hid him from sight. He’d crawled in and curled up on the cool ground - crying and eventually passing out. 

He didn’t understand - why did they want to kill him? Why? Just because of this one thing - one little mistake that he’d made? Because he fell victim to his own insane anger and frustration? Because he’d let his defenses down for a second and showed a little weakness? And that was enough to condemn him? 

But no - it wasn't that. It wasn’t the kiss. That was just the catalyst for the tire iron. The real cause was inside of him. Burning brightly. 

It wasn’t because he’d kissed another boy - giving away his first kiss in a moment of hurt and anger and frustration. No, it was because he liked that boy. Because he wanted to love another boy and not a girl. And that was enough to do this to him. Was he that abhorrent?

He wanted to take it all back - every push and shove. Every hurtful and hateful word. Every painful act - especially that last one - the kiss. If only he’d been able to keep it inside! If only he’d held back and hadn’t let his desire for another boy to break free and slam into Kurt. If only he’d done that - then none of this would happen.

This was all his fault. All of it.

Tucked in the dirt and mud, under the bush, Dave had passed out - the adrenaline from the hurt and pain and fear had slowly bled away, and his body had slipped into a quiet slumber as he lay there. But as he slept, tears kept running - tear tracts cleaning the blood away. 

But now he’d awoken and it was getting dark. He opened his eyes and lay there for a moment - the world was still rather blurry. There was almost no noise, just the soft rustling of the wind in some dry leaves nearby. Slowly, he started to push himself up. 

With aching slowness, he dragged himself out of his little hovel - his fingernails clawing at clumps of dirt and grass as he pulled himself along. Dirt and mud mixing with blood - coating his arms in reddish-brown grime. He moaned with every inch - sobbing with the effort and exertion. 

Once he was out from under the bush, he attempted to stand. As he did, he accidentally pushed against his burning side - pressing against a broken rib. The world went hazy. His vision greyed out and everything tilted slightly. He moaned loudly and had to sit there for a moment - eyes blinking rapidly. He shook his head - trying to clear it, but that just made the sensation even worse. Taking a series of deep breaths, he waited for his vision to clear and for the world to come back into focus. 

Then he tried again. He had to - he needed help. He needed to get help. 

Sliding carefully onto his knees, being careful not to touch his side or use his (probably) broken arm, he started to get up. The moment he straightened up, his hand shot out and grabbed hold of the bush to keep himself from falling over again. Moaning, he stood there, holding onto a bush with a dirty and bloody hand. 

Once he was certain he wasn’t going to fall over again, he started to move. But where the hell was he going to go? He wouldn’t make it home - home was too far away. The school was about three blocks away - he could maybe make it back there, but would anyone be there? 

Although it felt like he was forgetting something - forgetting something that he’d left at the school. Shit, his brain was fuzzy...what was he forgetting? What was at the school? 

He frowned and closed his eyes - but nothing was coming. He grunted and opened his eyes again - waiting for his vision to clear. Then he glanced around. There was a street sign just ahead of him. 

Oh. 

Well, of course. 

Of course he would be on this street! This goddamn street! Fuck. He would have to be on  _ his _ street!

Fucking poetic justice. 

Or was this fate? Kismet? Or something else? Because it made a kind of sense really - like he was coming full circle after the last two days. If he wasn’t in so much pain, he would have laughed. 

Kurt. He was on Kurt Hummel’s fucking street. How stupid of him - he had forgotten that Kurt lived so close to McKinley. He’d forgotten that Kurt actually didn’t need his fancy car…

Truck!

That’s what he’d forgotten! His truck was the school! Which meant maybe someone had noticed he was missing - maybe someone had put two and two together? The attack would be big news in town! Maybe they knew he’d been attacked! Someone might be looking for him. Maybe someone - DAD! - might be at the school waiting for him. He could go back to his truck! Maybe, if his dad wasn’t there, the police would be - or his bag would still be there, with his phone and he could call his dad. He could get help! Grunting in approval of that plan, he started to move…

And then...

A wave of dizziness hit him - he stumbled forward, nearly crashing down. He put out his good arm and caught himself against a lamppost - just barely keeping himself upright. Fuck. There was no way he was going to make it to the school - not unless he crawled - and he wasn’t even sure he could do that. 

When he moved his right leg, it felt wrong. Like the leg was too big - like his leg was an overstuffed sausage inside his jeans. There was no way he could bear his weight for long. He needed help. He looked around him again - noticing the house number across the street. He was maybe a half a block from Kurt’s 

He would have to go to Kurt. Kurt would help him. 

As he moved forward in his walking dead shuffle, it dawned on him to wonder why the people in the surrounding houses weren’t noticing a deeply hurt teenager hobbling along the sidewalk. And why weren't they coming to help? Were people that ignorant or that selfish? He whined softly as he turned towards Kurt’s. 

He needed help! Why was no one helping him? He momentarily flashed onto the face belonging to a man with salt-and-pepper hair - that man had helped him. That man had saved him. But even that image was hazy and unclear… who was he? A figment of his broken brain?

But Kurt wasn’t...he was close. So close to Kurt. To safety and rescue. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered the address. It had come across in a group text - something about lawn furniture - but even he hadn’t been that much of an asshole to do something like that. At least not at that point...he hadn’t fully evolved into the self-hating homophobic bully yet. 

Keeping to the shadows, which was easy in the growing dusk, he slunk along the street. Despite needing - wanting - help so badly, there was a small part of his brain that reminded him not to get noticed. He’d been noticed enough for one day. His brain was telling him to play it safe - to not let anyone see him. He wasn’t strong enough to fight back. He’d never be stronger enough to fight back again. 

It made no sense to go to Kurt’s. No fucking sense at all! And yet, here he was - limping his broken and abused body along a darkening tree lined street toward Kurt Hummel’s house. And yet, it also seemed so logical. Like it was the perfect answer to a rather simple algebraic equation. 

Dave + Kurt x (gay) = X. Solve for X. 

They were linked somehow. Or maybe that was just his feverish brain making up stories again. And he must have a fever, because he felt so hot. He felt like he was burning up inside - his skin felt like molten lava. 

Kurt. Kurt. Kurt. It was a mantra - a simple poem that drove him forward. That would get him to safety. And it just felt so natural that he would lay his broken body at Kurt’s feet and ask for deliverance. 

Yes, it had all started with Kurt, so it should end there too. 

He stumbled forward, falling to his knees - and accidentally using his broken arm to brace himself - causing him to cry out loudly in pain. He felt a pang of guilt at the idea of dying on Kurt's front step.

It felt like a rather Shakespearean move on his part. 

Using his good arm, and trying to ignore the now white-hot pain in his side, he pushed himself back up - his leg was burning and throbbing. He was crying harder now - but he couldn't stop. He was determined - he’d made up his mind, and nothing would stop him. He needed to get there - needed to get to Kurt’s. Needed to get to Kurt. 

And somewhere in the back of his mind, the part that was not utterly preoccupied with the pain and the fire in his body, a new thought formed. A dark and horrible thought. He wasn’t going to Kurt’s for help - no, he was going to Kurt’s to show him. He wanted to show him what his decision today - that little confrontation - had cost Dave. 

And again, as he stumbled forward another few steps, the words from a web-page floated into his head. He had read it last week. And he had not been able to stop thinking about it since. It had given him a tiny little germ of hope - and it had been the one thing he’d held onto last night as he developed his plan. He truly believed if he followed it’s advice, he could stick to his plan and he’d survive.  _ The things you hear about coming out may make you feel pressured to take steps that don’t feel right for you, or that you don’t feel prepared for. Your experience is truly unique to you. You get to decide. _

He needed Kurt to see what happened when Dave’s choice had been ripped away from him. 

Perhaps that was wrong of him. Perhaps it was cruel. Perhaps...there were a million perhaps. But he’d been beaten with a fucking tire iron today, so fuck perhaps.

A number floated up into his increasingly foggy brain - 25. He looked up, head feeling like it was filled with a million lead weights, to see that number glowing brightly on the side of a house. He’s made it to Kurt’s. Now he just needed to make it to the damn door.

He wondered if he looked like a zombie - stumbling and lurching slowly up the walkway - one leg dragging behind him limply, left arm tucked protectively against his chest, bloody face hung low, while he wheezed and moaned softly. 

He was so close. Just a few more steps. 

After what felt like a million years, he reached the door. It was blue, a bright and starling blue. He knew his dad had been talking about replacing their front door - maybe he should convince him to get a blue door. He really liked it. 

But then again...he might not live to see their new door. 

With a trembling hand, he reached out and pressed the doorbell - he could hear the chimes on the inside. 

He’d done it - he’d made it. He… 

...He sagged against the doorjamb - it could hold his weight. But he’d been fucking stupid again, and had accidentally pressed the side with his (probably) broken rib against the wood. He cried out, not even caring if it scared whoever was about to open the door. 

Worriedly, it was starting to get harder and harder to differentiate between all the various pains he was in or exactly where the pain was coming from. It was just all around him now. Everywhere. His entire body - entire existence - was filled with pain. There was no difference between his side and his arm and face and leg...there was only pain. And he was fully drowning in it. 

The door slowly opened. He tried to focus on who was standing there - he tried to see if it was his savior - his condemner. But he couldn’t...couldn’t see very well anymore. His brain was wrong - he couldn’t think. It was all going...going...going...going...

“OH MY GOD! DAD HELP!”

It was Kurt - Kurt was there. Kurt would help. Kurt would protect. Kurt would save Kurt would...

Kurt hurts hurts Kurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt 

He fell forward, his large and injured body colliding with Kurt’s surprisingly strong arms. 

“Oh god! Karofsky!” Kurt said softly, as he sagged under Dave’s weight. Then, he screamed again, louder than before. “DAD! SOMEONE! FINN! PLEASE CALL 911! PLEASE HELP!”

Dim - it was all dimmer now. But he could hear...hear feet. Feet. Running feet. The sound of feet. And he heard Kurt crying. Why was Kurt crying? What was happening? Where was he? Oh yes - he’d been hurt. He’d been hurt. He’d been hit...hit hit hit with a tire iron.

Hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt 

Kurt Kurt Kurt Kurt Kurt

Oh. They rhyme. 

A new voice - gruffer, laced with fear. “Kurt?! What’s going...Oh my God! Finn! CALL 911!”

“Dad! He’s really hurt! He’s bleeding! Karofsky! Can you hear me!?”

He was on his back - he could feel hands on his face. Oh god, don't touch his nose. He opened his eyes - it was like he was looking up through a tunnel - Kurt looked so far away. He was crying. They both were. But then again, Dave had been crying for a long time now. 

“Karofsky!” Kurt sounded so scared and confused. “What happened? Can you answer? I need you to stay awake!”

He opened his mouth - he had no idea if he could speak - he hadn’t tried before now. But before he even got the chance, there was another face in the tunnel - an older face with a bald head. He looked kind, but very scared, with sympathetic eyes that were wide with terror at having this bloody boy show up at his door. “Son? I’m Burt Hummel - can you tell me what happened? There’s an ambulance on the way.”

He blinked. He had to try. He opened his mouth again. He spoke at barely a whisper. “Dave…”

Kurt again - he was stroking Dave’s cheek. “What? Dave what?”

“My name - please… not Karofsky. I’m Dave.” 

Kurt was crying harder now, but he nodded. “Dave...okay, Dave...what happened? Why are you…”

He opened his mouth - he wanted to just say sorry, wanted to apologize for the kiss and the shoves...but instead, he whispered loud enough for Kurt and his father to hear, “Staircase - Kurt...you...why did you have to do that? Why?” 

“What? Staircase…? What...oh god! OH GOD!” Kurt’s face grew pale and horrified as an understanding of Dave’s words washed over him. He started to shake his head, tears coming faster now. 

“Kurt…?” The tunnel was getting darker now...the opening was becoming smaller. Kurt was fading. He licked his lips one more time - oh god. Oh. He was dying… he was going to miss Molly so much. He was going to miss his little cat so much. 

“Dave! Dave stay with us!” 

“Kurt….” 

“Yes? Dave, stay with us. I’m so sorry. I’m so so very sorry! I shouldn’t have! Please!”

“...they had a tire iron.” And the blackness enveloped him. 


	2. Recovery

###  **{14 Days later}**

“Do you need more ice chips? Or water? Or anything?” Azimio’s worried voice startled Dave awake. He’d been dreaming - a pretty nice dream actually. He’d been on the boat he and his dad always took on their camping and fishing trips. It had just been him - he’d been lying in the boat - shirt off, favorite baseball cap on his head, earbuds in - and he’d just been drifting around on a lake in the bright summer sun, listening to David Bowie. He’d felt really peaceful.

He really liked that feeling. It had been… different from everything else he’d dealt with for the last fourteen days - only ten of which he remembered. 

He opened his eyes - well, he should say he opened the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut. Az was sitting on a chair, pulled close to the hospital bed, watching Dave with a look of absolute concern. 

Dave shifted slightly - winching at the spike of pain that managed to break through the medicated fog - and twisted towards Az. Az shot up at the sight of Dave’s wince. 

But Dave shook his head, “Na, man. I’m okay - if you keep feeding me water, I’ll have to piss even more and it’s hard work getting into the damn bathroom.” 

“Are you in pain - you winced!”

“It hurts to turn to the left…” 

Az picked up his chair and carried it to the other side of the bed, before settling back down and continuing to watch Dave. “Better?”

Dave just nodded. “Thank you.” 

“No prob, man. Are you hungry? Or do you want me to…” 

Dave sighed and settled his head back against the pile of pillows. “Az. I don’t need or want anything, other than to just sit here with you, okay?” 

His best friend moved his chair closer and took Dave’s hand - careful not to squeeze too hard - the right arm might not have been broken, but it was bruised heavily. “Kay. I just...I’m so sorry, Dave. I should’ve been there.”

This was a conversation they’d had quite often - ever since Dave had finally woken up in the hospital ten days ago. “And then we’d both be in here - even the two of us couldn’t have taken on a fucking tire iron.” 

“I can’t believe this happened. God! Fucking assholes.” 

“Yeah. Fucking Assholes.” Dave closed his eye again and let his head fall to the right - grunting at the sensation. His body ached - which was a mass improvement from even five days ago, when his entire body had been a torrent of pain. But that might have more to do with the huge cocktail of pain meds he was on. 

“Dave - just tell me what I can do. Okay?”

“Mmmhmm - look can we just sit quietly for a minute or two?” 

Az just gave his hand another small squeeze of acknowledgment.

He sighed, letting the quiet of the room settle over him - quiet except for the gentle beep of a heart monitor. And, as he had done many times since waking up, he took stock of his bodily injuries - it was an impressive list. A rather gruesome catalog of horrors. A broken left arm, a severely bruised right arm, two fractured ribs on the right side, and one broken rib on the left. A dislocated knee cap, with massive contusions all over his right leg - some of which damaged the muscle. A broken nose. Damage to his right eye socket and the eye, causing incredible swelling and a black eye. In fact, Dave would never have perfect vision again and would need to start wearing glasses for just about everything. A broken cheekbone from where the tire iron had hit him in the face. Deep abrasions all over his face from when he’d collided with the pavement. A broken nose. Abrasions to his hands and knees. Cuts all over his face, including a massive wound on his forehead. A few fractured ossicle bones by the right ear. A sprained wrist. A mild concussion. And tons of internal bleeding - especially in the stomach from that last blow Nelson had served him.

There was, in fact, not a single part of him that had not been injured. 

Dave Karofsky - as had been pointed out to him dozens of times - was incredibly lucky to be alive. 

And that was just the cavalcade of physical injuries - he already heard all about the various psychological horrors he was facing. 

According to some psychiatrist that had talked to him and his dad yesterday, he could expect some kind of PTSD. And, in all probability, he’d end up depressed and on antidepressants, plus nightmares. Which, he already was having - that good old tire iron liked to pop up in the most inconvenient of dreams. He really wasn’t sure why the doctor felt it was okay to tell him all of that - he would’ve preferred to hear “Don’t worry, kid, you'll be just fine.” At least let him live in his delusions for a little while. 

But he could handle it. If he could survive being beaten like he had been - being beaten with a tire iron - then he could survive a few nightmares or whatever was going to come his way. 

He sighed and risked opening his eye again - Az was still watching him, that same deeply protective look on his face. He squeezed his hand around Az’s - thankful for his friend, who just sighed and continued to sit quietly.

Az had laid out for him the other massive casualty of last Wednesday - his social image. Not surprisingly, every single person in Lima knew he’d been the victim of a gay-bashing. 

And naturally, the entire school had heard about the confrontation on the stairs, which meant his sexuality was out of the bag for sure. In fact, by the time Dave had come out of hiding in the athletics area and had walked out to meet his fate at the hands of Bobby Nelson, every single person at McKinley was fully aware that Dave Karofsky - The Fury - was a raging homo. And by the time Dave had taken his first hit from the tire iron, the rumor mill was churning so heavily that Dave had been cast in every porno heavy fantasy known to man. 

Karofsky had been seen sucking some guy’s dick in the washroom. 

Karofsky was a total crossdresser.

Karofsky was an S&M pig.

Karofsky had been fucking Kurt Hummel in an empty classroom. 

According to Az, the rumors flew like wildfire - unrelenting all day. So, while Dave had hid in the athletics gear room, his reputation had been destroyed, then built up as a gay sex god, then destroyed again and built up as a pervert and destroyed again. Only to be resurrected yet again...the process kept going on all day. 

But such is life in a mid-western high school, where gossip was currency and currency was gossip. 

But then the attack happened - and the narrative got changed altogether. Dave was no longer a sex god, but a victim. He was the casualty of vengeful hate - he’d been gay-bashed. Which meant that Dave became a legend. And a million theories and rumors swirled around his legend status. 

Dave was dead. 

Dave had been raped.

Dave had stood firm and fought - taking down his attackers. 

Dave was seriously hurt. 

Thankfully, only one of those things was true. He was seriously hurt. But that didn't mean the rumor mill wasn’t still running at full tilt - especially when word hit that it had been Rick “The Stick” Nelson’s brother that had attacked Dave. And when Rick Nelson was suddenly expelled from McKinley - well that rumor mill almost burned down from how fast it started pumping out stories. 

Dave’s favorite was that he and Rick were secret lovers and Bobby Nelson took exception to that. 

And when they found out that Dave had shown up at Hummel’s house - battered and bruised - well the rumor mill became a nuclear explosion. People were almost convinced that Dave and Kurt were secretly married by now. 

But, of course, the truth of it all was much more mundane - Dave had been, unintentionally, outed on the stairs at school - news that had spread like wildfire. And Rick had decided he didn’t like the fact that he’d once played hockey with a fag, so he told his brother. And his brother had decided that a gay jock was not something that sound be allowed to exist. And to prove his point, he’d grabbed a tire iron from his truck and decided to teach Dave a lesson. 

A lesson that in the end, had seemed to backfire, as Bobby Nelson was now looking at a charge of attempted second-degree murder. 

Again, something that Dave only knew from Az. 

Dave’s dad had been hesitant to even reveal the smallest thing to Dave - thinking that if he kept him isolated and protected, he wouldn’t suffer more at the hands of those violent and hateful bigots. But Dave had insisted, eventually getting his information from another source - Az. 

Az, who had refused to leave the hospital for one minute while Dave was in surgery. The guy who had slept in the chair next to Dave’s bed for the last seven nights - only leaving when forced to. He ate when Dave ate. He slept when Dave slept. And he watched over Dave like he was protecting the damn royal jewels of England. 

“Dave?” Az’s voice shook him out of his thoughts - again. 

“Yeah, man?”

“You’re crying. What’s going on?”

Dave lifted his broken arm up to touch his face - sure enough, it was wet with tears. This seemed to happen perhaps a bit too often. “Shit - sorry man, I was just thinking about you and how awesome you are.” 

Az’s voice was heavy. “I got your back, man. Nothing else is happening to you on my watch.” 

“Thank you.” 

Az was quiet for a moment - as though he was considering something, then quietly he said, “I was so scared when I couldn’t find you. I looked everywhere for you. I even stayed late, just in case you were hanging around.” 

“I wish I’d known.” 

“When I started hearing the rumors, fuck man, I freaked out. Like, whatever, if they were true, then we’d deal. But I know how you get when things scare you - you lose it a little. So, I searched everywhere. I even made Hudson help me. But you were just gone, dude.”

“You know that crawl space in the equipment shed?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That’s where I was.” 

“Fuck dude. But I waited! I hung out in the damn school till Bieste kicked me out - she told me to go to your house, that you’d probably went home.” 

There was a heavy sigh - they’d already gone through this. But Dave knew that Az needed to retell it. And somehow, Dave needed it too. Needed to hear again how much his friend and his dad loved him. 

“I think I lost my mind a little when I walked out of the damn school and your truck was still there. But it was your stupid bag that made me straight-up scared. I knew - because you never go anywhere without that bag or your phone - that you were in trouble. Bad.” 

“I gotta start keeping my phone in my pocket.” 

“Your dad is going to probably implant it in your head or something. But when I saw that phone, I ran back in and got Coach - I think I was screaming. We called your dad and told him what was happening and why I thought you might be in trouble.” 

“And dad did dad things…”

“Yeah - I think Coach is a little scared of him now. Your dad barely stayed on the phone, but I know he called the cops right away and told them that you might be in trouble.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Did he tell you that he was driving to the police station when they called to tell him about the attack?”

Dave nodded. This part he knew - knew all too well, his dad had tearfully recounted everything to him. 

Dave’s dad had broken all kinds of traffic laws driving to the police station, where he’d rained down holy hell on anyone who would listen. Although the police didn’t know who the victim of the attack had been - Paul Karofsky had known one irrefutable fact. 

His son was missing. 

There had been a violent attack, fueled by homophobic rage. His son had been publicly outed at school that day. And now, his son was missing. 

The mathematics of the situation was rather sound. 

Then, while Paul was slowly losing his mind at the police station, a man - a witness had shown up. The owner of a local comic book shop, which happened to be right next door to where the attack had occurred. He was heavy set - with salt and pepper hair - and when he walked into the police station, ready to give his witness statement, he had blood on his knuckles. 

And his first question had been, “Did you find the boy yet?”

Paul had nearly thrown himself at the man - yanking out his phone, holding up a photo of Dave. “Is this the boy!? Was my son the boy you saw!” 

The man had confirmed it was. He’d stared at the photo for a long time - tears running down his face. “Find him. Someone find him - he was hurt. Hurt bad! Someone fucking find this kid!” 

So, while his son’s attackers were being charged at the Lima Police Department, Paul, Az, and the salt-and-pepper guy arranged for an all-out search. The entire town was notified - Dave’s photo was sent to the local news. Az had called everyone on the football team to drive around looking. Paul had called every friend he had. The three of them created a walking campaign. People scoured the town. Everyone - anyone - was told, was called in to help. 

With one exception. 

No one had thought to call Kurt Hummel. Everyone knew it had been Kurt on the stairway, so people just didn’t want to involve him. And for some reason, when Az had called the football team, he’d forgotten to call Finn. The entire Hudson-Hummel household had been utterly unaware of the townwide drama going on. 

And yet, they became the epicenter of everything. 

Dave remained missing - Paul growing more and more desperate - practically pleading with the cops to call in a helicopter. But Dave remained a ghost. No one knew where he was - until seven p.m. that night when Finn Hudson called for an ambulance and the police because Dave Karofsky had shown up at their door, bloody and beaten. Barely breathing.

By the time the ambulance had shown up, Dave had passed out. Only to awaken four days later, in recovery. He’d had surgery to stop the internal bleeding and to prevent Dave’s broken rib from puncturing his lung. Twelve hours later after that, he’d been moved to his own room, which was where he was now. 

But so much had happened - of which, Dave only knew tiny bits. 

He knew Burt Hummel had gone in the ambulance with him - waiting until his dad showed up. He knew Az had stayed at the hospital - running any and all errands Paul needed. He knew his mom had driven from Cincinnati to get to her son. He knew a kind man with salt-and-pepper hair had sat a silent vigil in the hospital waiting room until someone told him Dave wasn’t going to die. And he knew that when he’d opened his eyes, his dad had been there - screaming in relief at the sight of his son’s eyes looking at him. 

But the gaps - and there were so many - that still needed filling in. 

He sighed at the enormity of all he didn’t know. A sound that obviously drew the attention of his friend. He heard Az slide the chair closer to the bed. He whispered softly, “You okay, man?” 

It was an odd question really. And not one easily answered. “No. I’m not - not really.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Dave gently shook his head. He’d already talked a lot - talked too much and entirely not enough. “Not sure what to say, Az. There’s a lot - I mean, I got outed publicly by the only other gay kid at school after kissing him in a locker room, the entire school - hell, the whole town knows I’m gay. I got chased by a bunch of homophobes and beaten with a tire iron, I just had surgery to keep me from dying. And because of my leg and my arm, I might not be able to play football again. Like, I have no idea what to even think, you know.” 

“I’m so sorry, Dave. Fuck - I’m so sorry.” Az’s voice suddenly sounded frustrated and angry. “Why didn’t you come find me on Wednesday?” 

“We’ve talked about this, dude. I was scared. Like I knew everyone was talking about me - and I was scared that you’d hate me or something. I just hid and then… well you know.” 

Az scowled at him, shaking his head. “Dave - dude - we've been friends a whole lot longer than I’ve been alive. I don’t care, man. Gay, straight...whatever. I don’t care. Not after this...not after you almost died. I mean, yeah, I might need some time to get used to it - but I don’t care, as long as you’re here and okay.” 

Dave smiled - still a little floored by the commitment his friend had shown since the attack, barely even leaving his side. He nodded, “Okay.” 

“And when you’re out of here, I’m gonna fucking lose it on fucking Hummel for what he did!” 

Dave sighed again, “Please don’t. I think my showing up at his door looking like an extra from the Walking Dead was enough to punish him.” 

“Fuck that noise! I read online about how you’re supposed to have the right to come out on your own! It’s not supposed to be something other people do for you! So, why the fuck did he have the right!?” 

“Because I scared him? Because I did something stupid like kissing him and he freaked out - and I freaked out. And yeah, he and I should’ve talked it out - but we didn’t. I was my usual angry asshole and he was his usual self. And now we’re here.” 

“But Dave, you could’ve died.” Az sounded like he was on the verge of tears again. Dave had never seen him cry quite as much as over the last few days. And Az was even worse than Dave with the whole putting on the tough guy act. 

And, yeah, Dave knew he’d almost died. That was written across every single scar and bruise and cut and broken bone on his body. It was written in the way he’d had a splitting headache for days. It was written in the way his nose sat crooked on his face and the bright purple and blue bruise that pretty much made up the entirety of his face or the way that he kept having to get his nose cleaned out from blood and pus. It was written in the way his side burned and his leg ached and his arm throbbed. 

It was written like scripture across his entire body. 

“Yeah, Az. I know. Believe me, I know.” But maybe it was the pain meds, or maybe it was in the way that he believed that nothing more could happen to him. He’d been exposed - his closet door had been thrown wide open, long before it was ready, and his life had been laid bare. But he just couldn’t seem to care anymore. 

He’d come through slaughter and was still standing on the other side. 

“But I didn’t, Az. Okay! I didn’t - I’m still here!” Dave started to cry. He couldn’t use his hands to press into his eyes like he usually did when he cried, so he just hung his head low. He felt Az move onto the bed, gently pulling Dave against him. And rocking him. 

Dave was changed. He was utterly different - he had been baptized in pain, blood, and metal. 

That tire iron had broken down his anger. It had ripped apart the scared child he’d been. It had done away with the bully and the fear and the anger and the hurt - and left someone new in his place. Someone who was just looking for acceptance. 

Someone who had no idea who the fuck he was yet. 

That tire iron had simultaneously ruined his life and saved it. 

And it had changed everyone around him - forcing them all to gather Dave to them, in a veil of love and acceptance. From his dad’s quiet -  _ “I don’t give a fuck who you are, or who you love. I love you and I’m glad you’re still here to hug. _ ” 

To Az’s deep friendship -  _ “You and me, D, you’re my boy. Let them try to pull this shit again.” _ Heck, even his mother seemed to be willing to open her God-fearing mind a little. All because of that glint of metal.  _ “You have survived a great test, Dave. And I believe that God meant for you to survive, darling. He meant to make you this way. I don’t understand this...lifestyle. But it doesn’t mean I don’t love you any less.” _

That piece of metal - it had kissed him in the worst way possible, but it had also given him so much. So, you know what - fuck the bullies and fuck the tire irons of this world. Dave Motherfucking Karofsky was gonna figure out who the hell he was, and then was gonna take on the world. 

He sighed as his eyes closed again, enjoying the rocking sensation Az was giving him. He could feel the pull of that dream - that warm sunshine, that gently rocking boat, that soft refrain -  _ “For the days of fate / Were strong for you… / Danced you far from me.” _

“Dave?” Az again - constantly interrupting his damn dream! 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you gonna sleep?” 

“If that’s okay?” He smiled - which hurt but also felt good. 

“Yup. I’ll be right here.”

“I know,” Dave whispered, already half asleep - his body already lulled by the gentle rocking of that boat in the sun. He slipped back into a dream where tire irons were but a thing of nothingness.

* * *

####  **{Two Days Later}**

Dave sighed and opened his eyes - unsurprised to see Az, once again, sitting in his usual spot. He’d changed shirts - today he was wearing a San Francisco 49ers shirt. The bright red was a stark contrast to the bleak hospital room. He was reading a copy of Wired. 

Dave licked his bruised and swollen lips, “You hate the 49ers.” He croaked. 

Az looked up, a smile on his face. “I do! But from what I read online, San Francisco is like the gayest city on the planet, so I think I’m gonna start liking them.” 

“You’re a weirdo.” 

“A supportive weirdo. Your mom was by a little while ago, she didn’t want to wake you.” 

“Whadda she want?” He slowly reached out for the cup of water on his little tray table, but before he even moved an inch, Az was grabbing it and holding the straw up to his mouth. He nodded his thanks. 

“She has to drive back tonight - her work needs her or something. But wanted to tell you she’s coming back on the weekend. She seemed pissed she had to go back. And she didn’t even quote scripture at me man!”

“Yeah. Last night she told me she’s confused why her God would do this to her son. I’m sure she’ll just pray about it a bunch. My dad around?” 

Az chuckled softly. “Yeah - he had a phone call and just left. It looked serious.” 

“Cool.” Dave lay back, closing his eyes. ‘You ever planning on going back to school, dude?” 

“Mom tried to make me go today - apparently, I’m being unreasonable and don’t need to be here every minute of the day. I promised I’d go back on Monday - since you’re outta here tomorrow.” 

“You’re totally gonna skip and come over to watch movies, aren’t you.” 

“Fuckin’ A! Oh, Hudson and some of the other guys on the team want to come by tonight, is that cool?” 

“Hudson and Evans gonna cry again?”

“Probably.”

“Then yes - it was funny when they got all blubbery and weird yesterday.” 

“Yeah…” There was a soft knock at the door, interrupting Az. And Dave’s dad’s head appeared in the doorway, “Hey - he awake?” He was looking pointedly at Az.

“Yes, dad, I am awake.” Dave didn’t bother opening his one good eye.

“Oh, hey kid! There’s someone here who wants to see you. If you’re up for it?”

“I’m probably not, but when has that stopped anyone.” Dave noticed his voice was slurring softly - man those pain meds were really something else. He hoped he got to take some of them home with him. 

Az snorted softly, then he hissed in anger. Dave turned his head slowly - careful because it hurt when he made any sudden movements. And sighed. 

Kurt Hummel was standing in the doorway.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been expecting this - in fact, he was a bit surprised it had taken this long. He had, after all, stumbled into Kurt’s front hallway, bloodied and bruised and practically dying, so it was only natural that Kurt would show up. And show up he did. 

Kurt looked wrecked - well, not as wrecked and Dave did, but still pretty wrecked. His eyes were bloodshot and raw, which told Dave he’d been crying - a lot probably. His hair was utterly unkempt, which was really unlike him. And he was wearing the most dressed down Kurt outfit Dave had ever seen. A plain long black t-shirt underneath an equally long black cardigan, with a pair of grey pants and chunky boots. He’s also without his usual shoulder bag - which Dave had started considering Kurt’s armor. 

But now he was standing in the doorway of Dave’s hospital room, looking exposed and so vulnerable. It had been over two weeks since their ill-conceived kiss in the locker room, and so much had changed in that time. 

The bully had turned into a victim. The victim had turned into a condemnor. Anger had turned to fear. Fear had turned to pity. 

Kurt and Dave stared at each other - the look of fear and deep worry seemed to age Kurt incredibly. Dave wondered what he looked like to Kurt - what did his bruised and battered face say to Kurt? 

He heard Az stand up - his voice angry and low. “What the fuck do you want, Hummel? Haven’t you done enough?” 

Dave, grunting in pain, reached out and grabbed Az’s hand. “No, Az. Don’t…” He saw his dad move into the room, a look of concern passing across his features - Dave knew he was already regretting letting this happen. 

Az was angry - it was an anger that had been boiling for days. “Bullshit! He outed you man! He stood on those stairs and pretty much screamed to everyone about how you’re gay! And then...this happened! No! Don’t you tell me not to get mad! That was a bullshit move!” 

Kurt’s eyes dropped to the floor. Dave heard Kurt’s small sniffle and his heart ached a little - something told him Az had not been the first person to denounce Kurt’s actions. Nor would he be the last. 

Of course, he’d also probably needed a little condemning for his stupidity with that kiss. Or had the tire iron been enough? 

His dad moved to the bed, holding out a hand - stopping Az’s tirade. He looked at Dave. “Do you want this?” 

Dave looked at his dad - the man had aged dramatically in the last two weeks. Then he looked at Az, standing there defiant and angry. He nodded. “Az. Please stop, I want to talk to him, okay?” Dave kept his voice soft and level - the slur from the pain meds was even more evident. “I think I need to.” 

Az stared at him, his scowl was so deep that Dave was almost certain it would become a permanent etching on his friend’s face. Az stepped a little closer to the bed - his protective nature becoming even more pressing. 

“Fine, but I ain’t leavin’ ya.”

Dave looked at his dad - a quiet and pleading look on his face. His dad got it - they had talked a lot about what had happened with Kurt and why Dave had found himself at Kurt’s door. Paul understood how important this conversation might be to his son. 

“Az…” Paul said softly, “I think they need to talk - why don’t you come with and we’ll grab some lunch. We’ll run across the street to McDonald's.”

“He outed you, man… I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

Dave started to say that he would be just fine when his dad clamped a hand down on Az’s shoulder. “Az - they need to talk, alone. I think it's important. I promise we’ll go grab something and come right back. Dave - would you like a milkshake?” 

“Yeah, dad. Thanks.” He turned back to his friend, “Az - it’s okay. Go. I need to talk to him.” 

Az looked at him - unsure, with that incredibly protective look on his face. “You sure you’re gonna be okay?” 

“I got my call button right here.” Dave held up the small red button. “If I need help or anything, I’ll press it so hard, it’ll short circuit.” He forced his battered mouth into a smile. 

Az nodded and moved towards the door, he paused next to Kurt - silently staring, his anger coming off of him like fumes in the air. Then he walked out the door. Paul pressed a kiss to Dave’s swollen face and, as he left, he clapped Kurt lightly on the shoulder - causing the slender boy to jump. Then, with a final look towards his son, Paul slipped out the door - leaving Dave and Kurt alone.

The room filled with the weight of their silence as they stared at each other. But slowly, the exertion of having his head towards the door became too much. His headache building, Dave whimpered and gestured at Az’s empty chair. ”Please sit. It hurts my head and neck to sit like this.” 

As if he had spoken some magic words, Kurt nearly sprinted to the chair - a frantic whispered “I’m sorry” floating in the air. Dave wasn’t sure exactly what Kurt was actually apologizing for.

Kurt sat - no, he perched - on the chair, watching Dave cautiously. But there was no fear in that look - the fear had gone. The fear had been wiped away by the kiss of a glinting piece of metal in the November sun. Dave was no longer Karofksy, The Bully. Dave was no longer The Fury - he was just Dave now. 

_ “My name - please… not Karofsky. I’m Dave.”  _

Dave shifted slightly, settling himself a bit further back on the pile of his pillows - the moment his head was not turned so dramatically, the headache lifted slightly. He sighed in relief.

He wasn’t sure which of them would actually speak first, but silence had settled over the room. It was as though neither boy actually knew how to start this conversation - and neither boy really knew what conversation they needed to have. 

But really, there was just one question that Dave needed answered. One thing he needed to know. So, he jumped in - brazen and bold - asking the question that had been burning inside him for days. “Why did you do it, Kurt? Why did you have to out me like that on the stairs?”

Kurt was silent for a moment. When he spoke, he answered a question that Dave hadn’t asked. “I’ve never had this many people mad at me before.” 

“What?” 

“Dave, I’m so sorry for what happened. I...I never thought it would turn out like this.” 

“Just tell me Kurt - I deserve to know.” 

Kurt nodded, breathing deeply to fortify himself. “My dad went in the ambulance with you - he was so freaked out. He had no idea who you were - but he practically screamed at me to stay put, that we’d talk when he got back. My dad - he...he refused to leave your side until he knew you were safe and they had found your dad. So, I know he met your dad - that was how he found out what had happened. I guess Az told your dad - so he told mine. And when he got home, he was completely silent, except he made me call Blaine…” 

“Who’s Blaine?”

“The guy I was with that day?”

“Oh…”

“When Blaine got there, my dad just erupted. He screamed at us for hours. I didn’t know my dad could get that mad… even Finn yelled at me. And then Carole. And I’ve been yelled at by Mercedes and Rachel and even Santana.” 

“I’m sorry, Kurt.” 

“Sorry!? What…I deserved it.”

“No...you…” 

But Kurt had started and he seemed determined to keep going. He was going to talk until he ran out of words to say. My dad was furious - he kept asking what I thought was going to happen? Beyond the fact that I was confronting someone who might have been dangerous, I was publicly exposing you - opening you up to all kinds of danger. And when I explained I - we - never had any intention of doing that, he just got even madder. He essentially kicked Blaine out and forbade him from coming back. He said he was so disappointed in me. Even Finn said he was disappointed in me.” 

“I’m so…” 

“Then, a few nights later, your dad showed up - he wanted to talk to me. He didn’t yell - which was nice. But he was so calm - almost detached. It was scary. He demanded to know why I would do this - I think he believed I had been working with that disgusting asshole who did this to you.” 

“God…” Dave breathed softly.

“My dad...Finn, Carole...even my friends, I think they all believed we’d done it on purpose! That we’d set out to expose you like that - to set you up for this!” Kurt was starting to shake - he was crying harder and harder. 

“Kurt, please calm down - okay?’ Dave wanted to reach out and reassure the guy, to get him to take a breath. But he could barely sit up without screaming, so he just had to lie there and watch.

“But I didn’t! I swear! Dave - you have to believe me! I never meant it! I would never! I was scared after the kiss - and when I talked to Blaine, he suggested we come to talk to you. He suggested to do it someplace public, so you wouldn’t retaliate. But I never thought...never thought about what could happen! And...oh god! Dave...they almost killed you!”

Dave lay there for a second - not sure how he wanted to respond. Not sure what would be appropriate, in the end, he settled for a lame, “Yeah, they did.” 

“Dave...I’m so sorry. So incredibly sorry.” 

“Why didn’t you just...call me? Or leave me a note, Kurt? I might have gotten pissed off at you, but I would’ve...fuck, I might have come talk to you! I already had decided to lay off - I’d gone too far. That day, I went too far. I kissed you - and I didn’t even ask! But, if you had just tried to reach out. Kurt… but to do it in front of everyone. Why?”

“I...I honestly was just so scared. I’m so sorry. I just didn’t think.” 

Dave huffed a small laugh, grimacing at the spike of pain that coursed through his body when he did. “Well, as someone who didn’t exactly think through his actions in the locker room… I at least can get that.” 

“That was my first kiss.” 

“Mine too. I...I want to apologize for that. And for everything else - every push and shove and hit and slushie...I’m so freaking sorry, Kurt.” Dave could feel the tears starting. The saltiness of them stung his ripped and raw flesh. He winced with every drop. 

“I accept your apology.” Kurt was still crying, his face was red and blotchy, but he was watching Dave’s face and the obvious pain the tears were causing. He pushed himself up and moved towards the bed, pulling a tissue from the box on the table next to the bed. 

Slowly and with a gentleness Dave didn’t know another person could possess, he dabbed at Dave’s tears, careful not to rub the raw exposed flesh. “I’m so sorry too, Dave. So incredibly sorry...all you did was take my first kiss and throw me into some lockers...you got beat with a tire iron!” 

Dave sighed and wished that his damaged eye sockets would let him roll his eyes, but he knew how painful that would be. And although the roughness of the tissue was like a million little agonies against his face, he never wanted Kurt to stop doing this. “Well, the devil gets his due, right?”

‘What!?” Kurt’s voice was almost a scream - his hand stalled. “Please, please tell me you don’t think you deserved that!? No one - NO ONE - deserved that! Not you, not anyone.” 

“I know. I know I didn’t. And I accept your apology, Kurt.”

“Thank you, Dave. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself for this.”

“I hope you do - it’s a lot to carry around for the rest of your life.” 

Kurt’s head fell slightly, a sad thoughtful expression on his face. “I think Blaine wants to come to apologize too - he’s pretty much beside himself. I wish we’d thought it through - I’m so ashamed of myself.” 

“Maybe one day when I’m out of here, he can come see me.” 

“Just don’t listen to his advice - he gives awful advice.” 

Dave laughed again - which ended in a groan of pain. “Don’t make me laugh, it hurts too much.” 

“God! I’m sorry! No laughing - no jokes, I promise.”

“Yeah - my room in a humor free zone.”

“I should make a sign.” Kurt’s whole body sagged, he looked so lost and. “God…” he breathed. 

“Thank you for coming to see me though. This is nice.” Those were definitely the drugs talking, right? 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t come sooner - I’ve been rather nervous. But I know Finn has come by - I think he’s coming again tonight. I hope you guys become friends - although he’s kind of scared of Az. Actually, everyone is scared of Az right now.” 

“Yeah?” 

“He’s put the fear of God in people - if they mess with you again, he will literally kill them. And I don’t think he’s exaggerating.” 

“He’s really protective right now.” 

“But supportive? Like, your dad and everyone is okay with you being out?”

“Yeah - even my uber-religious mom is being cool about it. It’s weird, it’s like...when you’re almost killed with a tire iron, people wake up and realize being gay isn’t that big a deal.” 

“I hate that we have to have this conversation.” 

“Me too - and I’m sorry if I implied I thought I deserved this. I know I didn’t...that I don’t.” 

“Good. I don’t care what you did. I don’t care about how many shoves or pushes or stolen kisses… you did nothing to deserve this.” 

Dave lay there - he closed his eyes, which really was the only physical action he could do easily. He wasn’t sure how to really express what he’d felt that day. He looked at Kurt, his one good eye shining. “I’m gonna shrug now, just so you know - I might scream, I haven’t shrugged yet.” 

“Dave…” 

Dave shrugged. And a wall of pain crashed down on him. He cried out and tried to hunch forward into himself, wanting to protect himself from another assault. “Motherfucker!” He was shaking and starting to cry again.

“Don’t!” Kurt’s hands were on his chest, easing him back against the pillows. “Don’t do that again. Telling me you were going to do it was enough!” 

“Deal. Fuck, that hurt.” 

“I’m so sorry. Can I get you something?” Kurt gently laid his palm on Dave’s face, he nuzzled it.

“My water?” 

Kurt lifted the straw to Dave’s lips, holding it there while he took a long drink. Dave eventually let his head flop back, sighing. “Thank you.” 

“No problem. Tell me if you want more.” 

“Okay, so as I was about to say before I made the idiot decision to shrug. At first, when I was running from them, I actually thought - well this was bound to happen eventually. You can’t be as big of an asshole as I’ve been without something major happening to end it. But when...when he hit me for the first time, I knew I deserved better.”

“God, Dave. How bad was it…” 

“It was the worst thing in the world. Kurt, I honestly thought I was going to die. I’ve never been so scared - I even pissed myself. And that is something I am only admitting because I’m a little high on pain meds.”

“I can’t even imagine.” 

“Yeah - the whole time, and you can’t laugh at me, but all I wanted was my cat.” 

“Oh, Dave... “ Kurt reached out and gently stroked his hair. “I would never laugh at you for that.” 

“I can’t wait to see her tomorrow.” 

“Do you know what’s going to happen to...them?” 

“Bobby and the others? No, I know they’ve been charged. I’ve given a few statements now. Dad says they’ve pretty much plead guilty - I hope they go to jail and someone throws away the fucking key.” 

“Me too.” 

Dave stared down at his hands - one partially encased in a cast. “My dad is pretty angry at McKinley - he thinks someone should have prevented what happened, but I was hiding all day, so no one could get to me or stop what happened. I think he wants me to transfer schools. He’s even talked about that Dalton place.” 

“Blaine goes there.” 

“Oh?” Dave looked up surprised at that. “Well, I guess I’d know someone already.” He didn’t add that Blaine would be a very poor substitute for Kurt’s presence in his life. Again...definately the drugs. 

“Are you going to go?”

“I don’t know yet. Az would be heartbroken. But I don’t think I want to - as awful as this whole thing has been, I’ve actually found some good friends, like Finn. And… uh… you, maybe?” 

Kurt smiled and nodded. “Well, regardless of whether you transfer or not...and I hope you don’t. But, yeah, I’d like to be friends.” 

Dave smiled back. “Good, but, uh, I think we have a long road before we can be friends, Kurt. We’ve both done some awful things - we need to be civil first. And I need to figure who I am, okay?”

“Yeah. I think I can accept that.” Kurt nodded. 

“Can I ask you something though?”

‘Of course! Anything you need, Dave.” 

“I want to say thank you to your dad - could you ask him to come to see me?”

“I can certainly do that. I think he’s been anxious about seeing you.” 

Dave nestled himself a little deeper into the pillows, he yawned loudly. “Kurt - I’m getting really tired now. Would you mind, if I just slept?” 

“Oh - of course. Sure. Do you want me to stay or?” 

“Nah, you can head off - my dad or Az are probably sitting out there waiting. You don’t need to sit here and listen to me snore.” Dave tilted his head towards Kurt. “But I’m glad you came - and I’m sorry so many people were - area - mad at you.” 

“I think I deserved it a little. I am so sorry, Dave. And I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

“Thank you, and I am too,” Dave mumbled, he was almost asleep. 

Kurt nodded and stood up, moving slowly towards the door - through the little window, Paul Karofsky and Azimio Adams could be seen - waiting. But just before he pushed through the door, Kurt paused - turning back. “Dave?”

He slowly opened his eyes - they felt so heavy - and turned his head carefully, “Yeah?”

“Why - uh - why did you come to me on that day? After you were attacked.”

Through his sleep muddled brain, he tried to pull an answer together. He could vaguely remember his reasons - a need for help. A need for safe harbor. The need to show Kurt...something. But it was veiled in a mist of pain, medication and sleep. “I don’t really know - I can’t really remember anymore. I think...I think perversely I wanted you to see what had happened. But I think my brain also saw you as someone who would save me. Like you were my safe house - you’d protect me.” Dave’s eyes started closing again, he could feel himself falling into that inky blackness of medicated sleep. He mumbled - already asleep and completely unaware of his last words - “You would love me…” 

He was so deeply asleep that he never heard Kurt’s soft, “Oh Dave…” 

* * *

It hurt to read and it hurt to watch TV - especially on the tiny ass television the hospital provided, so on those rare moments when Dave was on his own and in need of some entertainment, he was stuck with whatever his own brain could come up with. He really couldn’t wait to get home - he was going to lie on the couch with Molly and watch  _ all _ the movies on their big-screen TV. 

But for now, he was stuck in a dark zone of entertainment, with only the window to provide any excitement. And right now, all he could see was the blinking red light on top of the Lima water tower. He might be under some pretty good drugs, but that did not mean he was incapable of dying from boredom. 

“Fuck.” He muttered to the empty room, “How much longer is Az gonna be gone?” 

His dad and Az had gone out to get some dinner, with the promise to bring Dave back something - he was holding out hope for a banana split or a slice of cheesecake. 

He sighed and decided to count how many times the red light would flash in the next five minutes - or maybe until he went completely mad. Sure, that sounded like a reasonable way to survive the next few minutes. 

As he got flash number eighty-two, there was a very soft knock, as the door opened and a vaguely familiar face appeared. A man was peering in - he was older with salt-and-pepper hair, smiling hesitantly, “Hi. Uh, may I come in?” 

Dave stared at the man and nodded. He knew this man - he recognized this man. 

The guy was in his fifties - a big fellow, much bigger than either Dave or his dad. But his movements seemed almost shy and hesitant like he was worried about disturbing everyone around him. And yet, he still carried with him that confidence that only came with age - he took up space, he just didn’t seem to mind. He was dressed in a dark green jacket, hanging open overtop a Dungeon and Dragons t-shirt, a pair of jeans that were faded with age. And he had a pair of beige Keds on his feet. On his face, he wore a pair of large chunky glasses. His hair was cut short, but it faded nicely into his beard, which also sported the same salt and pepper pattern. 

He was also carrying a large plastic bag. 

“Uh, hi kid...you’re Dave, right?” His voice was quiet and shy. 

And just like that, Dave remembered. “You...you were there. You saved me. You saved my life!” 

The man nodded and stared down at the floor, a weird look on his face. Then slowly, he brought a hand up and covered his eyes, his body shaking slightly. It took Dave a second to realize he was crying. Then the guy looked back up from his hand - eyes wet with tears, face blotchy with emotion. “Y-yeah. I...I just needed to make sure you were okay.” 

Dave nodded, it was all his body allowed him to do, but what he wanted to do was leap out of this bed and hug this man. This man had saved him. He’d saved Dave’s life. When he spoke, he realized he was crying too, “I-I, uh, I’m okay. I’m pretty badly hurt, but I’m alive. Because of you.” 

The man shuffled forward, roughly wiping his eyes, and pointed at the empty chair - “Can I sit down?”

Dave nodded and watched as the man settled his bulk into the chair. The guy placed the bag at his feet and smiled at Dave, “Hi, I’m Justin James.” 

“Hi Mr. James.” 

“Oh! Please don’t call me that - my nephew’s teacher calls me that, it makes me feel very old. I’m just Justin - or JJ to my friends... so maybe call me JJ?”

“Uh - okay. Thank you so much for saving me, sir.” 

“Ouch! Okay, nonna this sir thing either - that makes me feel even older. And, Dave, you don’t need ta thank me! I..I wish I’d gotten there sooner. But I didn’t hear anything until you really started screaming, I guess. God...I wish I’d gotten there sooner.” 

“It’s okay - you still got there. I’m sorry I ran away - I was...uh, really scared.” 

“Not blaming ya - I shoulda run after ya though. But that little shit...well fucker was putting up a real hecka fight. I gave him a right good one though.” 

“You did?” 

“Broke his nose - I hope that’ll teach him not to fuck with us gays. Course, I think a prison sentence is gonna teach him that lesson much better than an ol’ broken schnoz.”

Dave stared at this guy for a second - letting the guy’s words sink in… Us gays. Oh! He blinked his one good eye - “Sir...uh JJ?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yup! Only if I can ask you one too.” 

“Yeah...uh, are you gay?”

“Yuppers - gayer than twink dressed as a rainbow unicorn at a Kylie Minogue concert!” 

“Uh - I don’t know what that means.” 

“You really are a baby gay, huh? It just means I’m gay son, although I’m sad you don’t know who Kylie is.” 

Dave looked at Justin - he was large, overweight even, and he wasn’t dressed super fashionable, in fact, he looked a little nerdy. He looked - and dressed - nothing like Kurt or the other gay men Dave had seen online. He looked normal. He kinda looked like Dave’s dad. 

Justin leaned forward, “You okay, kid?” 

“Uh - yeah, I just never met another gay guy who wasn’t...you know.” 

“Stick thin and kinda look like he just walked off the runway of some bullshit Paris runway?” 

Dave again thought about Kurt. Because Justin was essentially describing Kurt - Dave just nodded. 

Justin frowned, “Look, you’re still hurt and probably on some killer pain meds, so I’m not going to go into a whole thing about gay stereotypes or expectation versus reality or whatever - but I am going to say, broaden your mind. Dave - you won’t believe the kinds of gay guys that are out there. And, holy fuck, am I glad that you get to find out all about them.” 

“I am too. What did you want to ask me, sir? Er, Justin?” 

“Are you okay? Like really?”

Dave thought for a moment. Considering how to answer that. He supposed honesty was the best policy. “Uh - I’m alive. I’m hurt really badly - but I’ll heal, so yeah, I’m okay. More okay than I ever expected to be after getting beaten with a tire iron.”

“I’m never going to forget the sight of that thing...never ever.” Justin’s eyes narrowed. 

“Justin? How did you hear me? Where were you?” 

“Oh! I was in my store - The Orc’s Hord Comics and Collectable…” 

“You own The Hord! I love that place!”

Justin narrowed his eyes as if taking in Dave for the first time - “Yeah...maybe underneath all the bruises and blood, you do look familiar. I guess I sorta see hundreds of kids - guess, it's sad ta say, I never noticed ya till ya were attacked. I’m sorry, kid.” 

“It’s okay.” Dave gestured to Justin’s t-shirt. “Do you play D&D?”

“Play it?! Kid, I live it! I DM like two games and play in three others, so yeah, I play it. Hazard of running The Horde, I guess.” 

“I’ve always wanted to play.” 

“Oh?’ Justin’s whole face brightened. “Well, you’re in luck - I think I could find a spot for you in one of my campaigns. Look, Dave, I wasn’t sure if ya even liked geeky stuff - but I, uh, brought ya a few things. Just to keep yer mind off things while ya recover.” He picked up the bag and plunked it on the bed, then he started pulling out what seemed like a million graphic novels, D&D manuals, a huge stack of comic books, even a couple action figures. 

Dave smiled and picked up a Spiderman comic book with his good hand - he’d make Az read it to him later. “Thank you. This is...awesome.” Then he picked up the D&D manual - the player’s handbook - and tried to open it, but his damaged hand just fumbled with it. 

Justin reached out and took the book. “Here, lemme.” He flipped open the book and held it up for Dave. 

Dave sighed. “I actually can’t read it right now - it hurts to read and there was some damage to my eye - so I need glasses before I can actually read shit.” 

Justin’s face clouded and he gritted his teeth. “Those fuckers. Those fucking fuckers... “ He looked down at the book, hands shaking. Then, after clearing his throat, said, with a lot more gentleness. “If you’re okay with me staying, I could read some of this to you - we can think about your character.” 

“I’d like that. Thank you… for everything.” 

Justin just smiled and patted Dave’s hand, as he started reading the first page. Dave lay back and closed his eyes, falling into the lull of Justin’s voice. 

Later, just as Justin was starting to get into the history of Orcs, the door opened and Paul’s voice halted Justin's reading. 

“Dave?” 

Justin almost dropped the book, immediately jumping up from the chair and turning to face the door. “Mr. Karofsky! Hello!” He sounded worried.

Dave opened his eyes to see his dad and Az, both standing in the doorway - Az was holding a bag from the cheesecake factory. Yes! But they were staring at Justin with confusion and extreme trepidation. 

“Hey, dad. Mr. James was just keeping me company.” 

Justin immediately started yammering - a torrent of words flooding out of him. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t be here, but I’ve been really worried about Dave and I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I brought him a few things from my store - I don’t know if you remember, but I own the Orc’s Horde. I apologize if…” 

“Justin!” Paul’s voice was quiet and amused. “It’s okay. I was just surprised to see you, that’s all. But thank you for coming to check on him.” 

“No worries.” Justin stood there for a second - his awkwardness was palpable. Finally, he turned back to Dave. “I should get going, okay kid?”

“Okay. Thank you for coming to see me.” 

“No problem - just, uh, keep getting better. Remember, you have a campaign to join!” He paused, thinking. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Dave. So incredibly glad.” Then with another pat on Dave’s hand, he whispered, “Okay, I’m gonna go.” He gripped Dave’s hand. 

Dave watched as Justin shuffled towards the door, smiling shyly at Az and nodding at Paul, before slipping out the door. It was quiet for a second, before Paul said, “I’ll be right back. Az, give Dave his cheesecake - we got you that intense caramel one you like.” And Paul followed Justin out of the room. 

Dave wondered what they would say to each other.

Az walked towards the bed, pulling out a huge takeout container from the bag. He rolled the tray-table closer to Dave and held out a fork, which Dave took - awkwardly. Then Az picked up the D&D book, looked slightly confused. “So, who was that guy?” 

As Dave awkwardly gripped the fork, breaking off a chunk of cheesecake, and working it into his swollen mouth, he mumbled, “That was the guy who saved my life, Az.” 

Az straightened up and looked towards the door. “Uh - do you think it would be weird if I went and hugged him?” 

Dave laughed around his mouthful of cheesecake, his body spasming. “Fuck you, asshole, don’t make me laugh. Now sit your ass down, you get to read me the rest of this book - I want to know more about orcs.” 

“Shit - now that you can’t play football, you’re going to go full nerd aren’t you! Fuck, I’m gonna have to start doing this roleplaying shit, aren’t I. Now I have another reason to hate those motherfuckers that this did!” Az sighed as he sat down and picked up the D&D book.

Dave sat there - awkwardly eating his cheesecake - while listening to Az grumble about having a nerdy best friend. And for the first time since the attack, he felt...happy. Still in pain, but happy. 

* * *

**{48 Hours Later}**

Dave lay on his side - the one that didn’t scream in pain every time he put pressure on it - and snuggled deeper into the massive blanket his dad had brought into the living room for him. He was lying on their huge overstuffed couch, buried beneath his blanket, with his head propped up on a small mountain of pillows. And Battlestar Galactica was playing on their huge tv. 

Underneath the blanket - lying curled against his chest - was his tiny cat, Molly. She was purring softly in her sleep, as Dave stroked her soft fur. She hadn’t left his side for one second since he’d gotten home from the hospital yesterday. And although it hurt to do so, he still let her sit on his shoulder whenever she wanted. 

He felt utterly content and happy. Exactly what he wanted. 

He heard his dad come into the room, flopping down on his favorite recliner next to the couch, flipping up the footrest, and stretching out his legs with a very audible sigh. “Damn that feels good.” 

“Hi, dad.” 

“Hey! Is Molly under there?”

“Yup! She’s sound asleep.” He smiled, the room felt quiet and warm - much nicer than the hospital room, and it was even nicer just having his dad there. “It’s nice to be alone.” Dave sighed as he felt Molly snuggle a little closer to him. 

“Oh god - it really is! I love Az, but he really thinks he’s your personal secret service agent. I was starting to worry he was going to move in.” 

“I think he was planning on it, but just wasn’t sure how to ask you.” 

His dad groaned. “Well, at least I feel better about you going back to McKinley with him there - he’s like an attack dog.”

“I’ll get him a little collar, he’ll love it.” Dave smiled contentedly as his dad’s hand brushed through his hair softly - his dad sometimes had a hard time going too long without touching him. “I’m really glad to be home.” 

“Dave… I’m just glad you’re here. I’m...I love you.” 

“I love you too, dad.” 

Dave let his eyes fall shut - he was safe and warm, with his cat curled against him and his dad’s hand in his hair. Two weeks ago, Dave had been fighting for his life - fighting against the worst possible situation. Fighting against a waking nightmare - that very much wanted to end his life. And he’d truly believed he was dying. 

But he’d survived. And now, every day from here on out, he’d keep surviving. Cause he was Dave Motherfucking Karofsky - and that’s just what he did. 

Although, he thought that this time, maybe he’d do a little bit less running. 


	3. Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes (or, Two Epilogue)

##  Epilogue - The First. 

###  {Seven Months Later} 

The doorbell went off - loud and long in the quiet front hallway. Dave looked up from where he was sitting on the couch in the living room, Molly on his lap. He frowned at the idea of having to go answer the damn door. He sighed as he pushed himself up - his bad knee screaming in protest. 

From the kitchen, Az’s voice screamed out, “I CAN GET THAT!” 

“It’s cool, Az. You focus on popcorn. I got the door!” 

Slowly, he moved into the front hallway - his leg protesting with every step. Even after six months of recovery and physical therapy, his leg was still giving him major problems - the muscle damage had been rather extensive. But it was really one of the last vestiges of the attack seven months ago. His broken arm had healed, as had the extensive damage to his face - although it had left some scarring. His ribs were healed - according to the last x-ray - and much of the bruising had gone away. 

Sadly, Dave thought, as he adjusted his glasses on his crooked nose, the after-effects were still all too present. But even so, he was still here - he was alive, and he was spending the night - their junior prom night - with his best friend and an all-night marathon of the Die Hard movies.

He’d thought about going to prom - even had a promise from Az, Finn and the gang that he’d be more secure than the pope. But in the end, he just couldn’t stomach it - he was still hot news around the school - his attack and sexuality still too new to risk anything. He just felt more comfortable celebrating his prom with Az, as much popcorn as they could eat, and the sexiness that was 80’s and 90’s Bruce Willis.

He got to the front door, and reached to open it - but a small coil of fear shifted in his chest. “Uh - who is it?” 

“It’s Finn, dude! Open up!” 

Finn? What the fuck? The dude was supposed to be at McKinley, getting crowned prom king or some shit like that. 

He opened the door - eyes widening in surprise. Finn was standing there - dressed in a full suit and carrying a six-pack of beer, but it was the fact that behind Finn stood Santana Lopez, Brittany Pierce, Sam Evans, Quinn Fabray, and - most surprising of all - Kurt Hummel, who was wearing a crown. 

“What the fuck?” 

Finn opened his mouth, but before he got a single word out, Santana pushed past him and walked into the house, “Prom fucking sucked, so we’re crashing your movie night. Oh, and congratulations, by the way, your highness.” 

“Huh? What?” He turned to follow her, utterly bewildered. He looked back at Finn - “Finn? What’s going on?” 

“Let’s go inside, we can explain.” 

Dave stepped aside, letting them come inside. As Kurt walked in, they locked eyes - and he could see that Kurt had been crying. From the living room, he heard Az yell “What the fuck is going on!?” 

Dave shut the door, locking it, and limped after them. Kurt was standing in the hallway, watching him. He stepped forward, “Are you okay? Do you need me to support you?” 

Dave glanced at Kurt, even more confused. Ever since the attack in November, he and Kurt had barely said more than a few words to each other outside of Kurt’s visit in the hospital. Every time Dave tried to talk to him, Kurt had just made an excuse and ran away. Eventually, Dave just gave up. He couldn’t be bothered to deal with Kurt’s drama, he had more important things to worry about - like healing. 

And he had more than enough friends. However, it did make things awkward when Dave was over visiting Finn or Mr. Hummel - who was like a third dad to him. After his own dad and JJ, of course. But most nights, when Dave visited, Kurt was off with his friends or that guy Blaine. 

And the less time Dave had to spend around Blaine, the better - the guy cried way too much. He seemed eternally convinced that everyone - especially Dave - hated him. Dave didn’t hate him - found him annoying, but not enough to hate. Now, Az...well, Az really did hate the guy. 

But there was no Blaine here - and there was nowhere for Kurt to run. In fact, he seemed prepared to stay in the hallway as long as Dave needed him to. 

Dave shook his head, “No, it just takes me a little longer to walk, that’s all.” 

“Oh.” Kurt sounded a bit disappointed, “Okay - well...um, I’m here if you need help.” 

“Thanks.” Dave shrugged and gestured to the living room. 

As he walked into the room, he smirked - a very uncomfortable looking Az was on the couch, wedged between Finn and Santana, who had Brittany in her lap. Sam and Quinn were sitting on the floor - playing with Molly and her favorite catnip mouse. Dave shuffled over to his dad’s recliner, flopping into it with a sigh of relief - fuck his leg ached. 

He noticed Az watching him, closely. “I’m fine, Az.” 

“Don't look fine. You look like your leg is bugging ya, don’t be a fucking hero, man. If you need a pill - ask for one.” 

“It’s not bad enough for that.” 

Az just rolled his eyes, and went back to his popcorn, muttering about stupid ass white boys who can’t even ask for help. Santana snorted in agreement. 

Santana had become his other fierce protector - after confessing her sexuality to him over coffee one day, after driving him to physical therapy. They’d become close friends - not Dave and Az level, but close. And she often joined Az in the whole ‘Dave doesn’t ask for help enough’ campaign. 

Choosing to ignore both his best friend and Santana, he looked at Finn. “Okay, what’s going on? Why are you all here? And why is Kurt wearing a crown.” 

Finn sighed and sipped his beer. “I got kicked out…” 

“For defending your ex-girlfriend’s honor, might I add.” Quinn grumbled from the floor as she played keep away from Molly.” 

“I said sorry. Look - things got fucked up.”

“Whatever... “ Sanatana groaned from beneath Brittany. “Can we cut the McKinley High 90210 bullshit? Look, you got kicked out and those assholes we go to school with decided it’d be fun to vote Kurt prom queen…” 

“What?! Are you okay?” Dave looked over to where Kurt was still standing in the doorway, looking miserable. Even Az muttered, “Those fuckers.” 

Kurt just shrugged. “I’m tired of dealing with these small-minded bigots every day.”

Dave could only nod in agreement with that. It was then that Dave noticed he was also holding a second crown. He pointed to it, “Please don’t tell me you got elected king too.” 

Everyone went silent, as Kurt looked down at the second crown. Then he pushed himself off of the doorframe and moved towards Dave, holding the crown out. “No, but this is yours. My king.” His eyes were watering as Dave’s hand closed around the plastic crown. 

“What?” Dave was so confused. “But I didn’t even run.” 

“They all wrote it in - Figgins at first thought it was a ‘let’s empower Dave!’ kind of moment, but then they read my name - also a write-in - and realized it was a huge practical joke. The two gay boys - of course, we would be king and queen.” 

Dave stared at the hunk of plastic in his hand - spray painted gold with a bunch of tacky gems hot glued to it. It was just another fucking implement of hate and bigotry - not quite as violent as the one he’d faced in November, but still just as hurtful. 

But was it? It was flimsy and fragile and he was so tired of this bullshit. But in the end - he’d waste so much worse. So he rolled his eyes, then he laughed and tossed it across the room, where it landed with a thump. Molly, high on catnip, immediately went to investigate. 

“Dave?” Santana was watching him with a look of surprise. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah! I’m cool…” He saw her skeptical expression, which mirrored Az’s - and smiled. “Really!” 

He looked back at Kurt, “I get it, Kurt, I do. This was shitty of them to do, but trust me when I say that this is nothing. This is like low-grade hate. This is...like a gentle kiss of bigotry. There are worse types. Worse weapons they could’ve used.”

Kurt looked over to where Molly was idly batting at the plastic crown, then he nodded and took his own crown off. He tossed it away, scaring Molly, who raced to leap into the safety of Dave’s lap. Kurt laughed and looked at Dave, “Fuck - you’re right. I’m sorry. Fuck them, right!?” 

“Amen to that!” Quinn and Sam shouted. 

Dave just nodded. “Fuck them! And don’t apologize, no reason to. I say - let’s not let them get to us. So, what, you all decided to just leave?”

“Yeah,” Finn said, grabbing some of the popcorn from Az’ bowl - despite Az swatting at his hand. “We decided that movies with you and Az would be way more fun than pretending to care about that garbage dance. Plus, you know, I got kicked out.” 

Dave smiled. The idea that his friends - after facing another example of the kind of hate and bigotry that had led Dave down a rather dark road seven months ago - would come here to him, was kinda cool. So, he pointed at his best friend, “Az?” 

“Yeah, man?” 

“Go make some more popcorn.” 

“What!? Why!? The fuck, dude!” 

“We’re gonna need more for everyone! And you promised you’d make popcorn whenever I asked for it. After all…” He rubbed his knee and pouted. 

Az huffed a loud sigh, shoving his bowl of popcorn into Finn’s hands and shoved himself up, before glaring at Dave - “The Emancipation Proclamation! Look it up!” He marched towards the kitchen, pausing in the doorway. “Evans! You’re helping! Making popcorn for a bunch of white ass…” He disappeared through the doorway, followed closely by Sam.

Dave pointed at Santana - “We’re watching all the Die Hards, plus Color of Night - cause Willis dick. And we’re onto number three. The DVDs on the entertainment center - you’re on disc duty.” 

“The whole sympathy thing won’t work on me, Tiny Tim.” 

“It will when I collapse because I can’t hold my weight and start screaming to call nine-one-one…” 

“Fucker…” She pushed Brittany off her lap and marched towards the TV, ignoring Dave’s self-satisfied smirk. 

He caught Kurt smiling widely at him. 

An hour later, just as Bruce Willis was blowing something up in New York, Dave leaned over the side of the recliner, to where Kurt was sitting crossed-legged on the floor, looking a bit uncomfortable. 

“Hey,” Dave whispered, “you okay down there.” 

“I’m a damn prom queen - I deserve to be on the couch.” 

“I can make Az move…” He glanced over at his friend, who was watching with gross fascination as Finn wiped very buttery and cheesy-powdered fingers all over his rather expensive looking dress shirt. “He won’t mind.” 

Kurt looked towards his stepbrother, a repulsed look coming over his face as he watched Finn rub a giant blob of orange dust into his shirt. “That shirt was not cheap.” He whispered. “And I think I’m happier down here than up there with...that.” 

Dave laughed quietly. “Hold on.” He reached out, contorting his body so he could grab one of the giant overstuffed pillows that they kept piled behind the recliner. He managed to yank one out without doing any damage to his leg, or without dislodging Molly from his belly. He dropped it down onto Kurt’s lap. 

“What on earth?” Kurt muttered, hefting the giant pillow up, he glanced up at Dave. “You kept this from me?! I’ve been sitting on your stupid ass hard floor for an hour, and you had this the whole time?!” 

“Sorry.” Dave gave a small shrug and smile, as he watched Kurt wrangle the pillow under him. Kurt worked at repositioning himself, so he was leaning against the side of Dave’s chair, but could still see the TV. He sighed and looked back up at Dave. 

“Thank you.” 

He watched Kurt for a moment - the way he pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on his hands, and chewed his bottom lip. And the way, every once in awhile, he would idly brush away a lock of hair that kept falling into his eyes. Or the way he’d absentmindedly chuckle at something that happened on the screen. 

He was still the most gorgeous guy Dave had ever seen.

It had been months since they’d had a conversation - since they had started to work through everything that had happened back in November. When Kurt had walked out of his hospital room, Dave had thought they might be able to slowly work towards becoming friends. He wanted to know what went wrong. 

“Kurt?” He kept his voice low, although everyone was absorbed by the movie - except Az, who always kept at least one watchful eye on Dave.

“Yeah?” Kurt tilted his head to look up at Dave. 

“Why have you avoided me all year? I - uh - I thought we were going to try and become friends.” 

At first, he thought Kurt hadn’t heard him - the silence stretched on for so long. Then quietly, in so low a voice that Dave had to strain to hear him, “I’m scared of hurting you again. I’m scared that no matter how hard I try, I’ll never make up for what I did to you. That I’m not good enough for you…” 

Dave sighed softly. He knew this was completely the wrong time to have a conversation like this - they were surrounded by friends, watching some trashy 90’s action movie. But he didn’t care - Kurt’s silence had hurt him. 

“Kurt - don’t you think, I would’ve liked to have the opportunity to figure that out with you? That I would’ve liked to help you realize that I forgave you and that I wanted to be your friend.” 

“It’s hard for me, Dave. I made a huge mistake - I almost…” 

“Please, Kurt.” Dave whispered, “Don’t - I know what almost happened. And I still want to be your friend. I don’t know a single another gay person - except a fifty-something-year-old man that I play dungeons and dragons with. Even with what happened - I kinda hoped we could stick together.” 

As Kurt opened his mouth the reply, the movie suddenly stopped and Az yelled loudly, “I need more popcorn! And everyone, who is not Dave or Kurt, is helping me make some!” Az leaped off the couch, yanking a complaining Finn and Santana along with him. He then ushered the other five teens out of the room, turning back and throwing a wink at Dave. Dave knew he’d demand a debrief later. 

Once the room was empty, except for the two of them, Kurt moved so he was kneeling on the pillow - staring at Dave. “Do you think everyone heard us talking, or just Az?” 

“Probably just Az - the guy has like a six sense when it comes to me. Look, Kurt - I meant it, okay? I needed us to be friends - I  _ need _ us to be friends, okay?” 

‘Dave...I…”

“No, just listen to me, please. Kurt - what happened to me was horrible and so scary. I almost died because I’m gay. And the only other person I know who maybe could understand how scary that idea is, refuses to talk to me. Kurt - you won’t ever hurt me again. You are good enough to be my friend...” 

“I just feel so guilty.” 

“But don’t you think if you talked to me and hung out with me that you might stop feeling so guilty? That you’d be able to see how well I’m doing. Kurt - I just wanted a friend…” 

“Just a friend?” Kurt’s question was so quiet - it was barely even a whisper. 

“What?” 

“Wh-when I asked you why you came to my house that night…” 

Dave was confused. He had no idea what Kurt was talking about. “When did we talk about that?”

“In the hospital - I asked you about it, but you were falling asleep.” 

Dave laughed softly, “My pain meds made me fall asleep a lot, there’s some stuff I don’t really remember. What did I say?”

“You...Dave, you said you came to me because you hoped I’d protect you and...and...and love you.” 

If Dave had been drinking something at that moment, he would have totally done a spit take, or if his leg would’ve allowed it, he would have jumped up and started pacing around the room. But because he could do neither of those things, he just gaped at Kurt. 

He had said what. What!? Dave’s mouth slowly opened and then closed. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

He had never intended for Kurt ever to find out about those feelings. Oh, fuck! He started to rub his knee - massaging the scarred and aching flesh. He did that sometimes when he was thinking - and right now he needed to think of a way out of this. 

Maybe he could blame the drugs! He could blame the trauma of what had happened. Or he could blame his own stupidity. 

Or he could just cut the fucking bullshit. 

Seven months ago, Dave had nearly met his maker and had realized - a bit extreme for a sixteen-year-old boy - that life really was too fucking short. So, maybe he should just take the damn bull by the horns and just try. 

“I don’t remember saying that. But, I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. But maybe in my drug-induced state, maybe I meant it.” 

Kurt bit his lip. “Sometimes, it’s all I can think about - but then I remember that I put you in the hospital in the first place.” 

“You know that's not true. Bobby Nelson and his fucking tire iron put me there - you were just scared and acted out in the wrong way. Nothing that happened was your fault - you didn’t know someone would overhear or that Rick would then tell his brother or that Bobby would decide to do what he did. Kurt - if we’re going to blame chain reactions, then me kissing you would be the actual reason.” 

“But...” 

“Kurt - don’t. Look, life is too short for blaming each other. And, frankly, I’m tired of not acting on how I feel. Look, do you like me as a friend?” 

Kurt nodded as he scrubbed his face with his hand. “I..I do.” 

“Great! Because I like you as a friend too! Can we start there? And if other stuff happens, then awesome. But, goddamn it, Kurt - let’s just start by being friends?” 

“I’d like that.” Kurt smiled and reached out, taking Dave’s hand. “Blaine has been calling me an idiot for not talking to you. I’m really sorry.” 

“You’re not an idiot. I understand, I do. But no more of this, okay. Just talk to me, please?” 

“Okay. Th-thank you.” 

“Good! As your king I demand it!” 

Kurt gave his hand a small slap. “Don’t be an asshole.” 

Dave smiled and nodded at the couch, having decided the serious part of this evening was over. “If you want, you could steal a spot on the couch before they come back.” 

Kurt glanced back at the sofa, then - without letting go of Dave’s hand, shifted so he was sitting on the pillow again, this time with his forearm resting on top of his head, so he could keep holding Dave’s hand. 

“Your arm is going to get tired.” 

“It’s worth it.” 

Dave smiled. Kurt was right, sometimes a little pain was worth it. 

He also really enjoyed the looks on the others' faces when they came in and saw Kurt holding Dave’s hand. Az’s eyes flicked up to Dave’s - questioning. Dave just gave him a shrug and tightened his grip on Kurt’s hand. 

As the movie started again - and Finn started destroying his shirt again - Dave heard Kurt whisper, “I hope you meant it. I want you to have meant it.” 

He licked his lips and grabbed the bull - “I did. I do.” 

* * *

##  Epilogue - The Second.

###  {February 2012}

Dave grunted and looked up from his Dungeon Master’s guide as Kurt settled down next to him on his mattress. He slipped his finger into the book to mark his place and turned towards his boyfriend, sighing in contentment as a soft cool hand started to stroke his cheek. 

“That feels really nice.” He whispered. Sighing as another Kylie Minogue song started playing on his laptop.

“Mmmmhmm.” Kurt’s soft voice mumbled in agreement. The fingers started to trace the small lines of scar tissue across his forehead and cheeks. “I hate that you can still see these scars.” 

“I don’t mind them anymore.” Dave leaned his head onto Kurt’s shoulder - pressing his face into his boyfriend’s neck. “Hi.” 

“Hi yourself, handsome.” Kurt kissed Dave’s forehead. “Are you almost ready?” 

“I think so! I’ve been planning for weeks!” 

“Weeks? You’ve been working on this thing for months, Dave. We should go down soon, Az texted me that he’s on his way.” 

“Five more minutes - plus, look at Molly - she’s so happy curled up between my legs, you don’t want to disturb her!” 

“No, I don’t. Did I tell you that Sam and Finn are dressing up - they’re really into this whole thing.” 

Dave smiled. “I cannot wait to see Finn wearing orc teeth! And thank you for doing this.” 

“Well - you came with me to the Sugar Shack thing last week…” Kurt shrugged.

Dave gave a small gasp. “Excuse me! I think we’re also forgetting that I spoiled you with a stuffed monkey, candies, balloons, and dinner at Breadstix.” 

“Yes, and that! So, like the good supportive boyfriend I am, I’m going to play Dungeon and Dragons with you…although I also sang to you, so maybe tonight is overkill?” 

Dave’s eyes shone brightly through his smudged glasses, “You’re already committed! Come on, don’t you want to see Az try and pretend he’s a female Dragonborn with anger issues?”

“So many words I don’t understand… And that’s so weirdly specific.” 

“JJ says those make the best characters. And I love you, Kurt.” 

“Oh, Dave.” Kurt sighed and moved to press their lips together, pulling Dave on top of him “I love you too. And I think Molly is judging us for making out again.”

Dave smiled and pressed his lips to Kurt’s for another kiss. He settled his knees on either side of Kurt’s hip - huffing softly at the very slight discomfort in his knee, but it quickly passed as he deepened the kiss. 

Because nothing was better than kissing - especially this kind of kiss. This kind of kiss was not the same as that which he’d faced last year. It was not a stolen kiss. Not a bruising kiss. Not the kiss of metal against flesh...but a kiss of love and security. 

This was the kind of kiss that took away his pain - took his breath away - this was the kind of kiss that made him forget the nightmares that woke him in the dead of night. This was the beautiful press of Kurt’s lips against his. This was a kiss of deep and perfect love. Yeah, this was his favorite kind of kiss. 

A healing kiss. 

{fin} 


End file.
